


Roleplaying Games

by followyourenergy



Series: Vanilla [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional tags in author's notes for each chapter, Angst, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Daddy Issues, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Insecure Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 89,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: Dean Winchester is bored with sex. His best friend Castiel Novak is, too. And since they’re both bored and neither of them are in a relationship (because they don't do relationships), why not try to get out of their ruts by having roleplay sex with each other? Sure it’s a little different, a little wild, but that’s the point. They both need something completely out of their comfort zones to break them out of the humdrum of hookups and the bar scene, and they trust each other enough to commit wholly to the process. When they’ve scratched the itch, they’ll go back to their usual ways.But the more they take on new roles, the more they shed old ones, leading them to evaluate who they really are, who they want to be, and who they want to be with.This is a story about the roles we play, the friends we play them with, and becoming real.
Relationships: Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cesar Cuevas/Jesse Cuevas, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury, Garth Fitzgerald IV/Bess Myers, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Series: Vanilla [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959265
Comments: 2118
Kudos: 616
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Bored

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I'm so excited to share this with you. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I've had writing it!
> 
> I will be posting at least weekly, on Fridays, but I might post twice a week eventually. 
> 
> There will be several roleplays these boys do, and I will tag anything you might want to know about in each chapter. 
> 
> If you ever have questions, please find me on Twitter or Tumblr and I'll be happy to answer! 
> 
> Ready to play?

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I’m bored with sex.”

Cas Novak raises his eyes from his cards to his best friend, Dean Winchester, stunned at his statement. Their other friends seem to be, too.

“You’re what now?” Lee utters, his voice thick with doubt. 

“Bored. I fold.”

“I raise,” Benny says, throwing in a couple of chips. “What do you mean, bored?”

“I dunno, just bored. Everyone’s just...meh.” He shrugs as he pounds back the remainder of his beer, then belches.

“Maybe if you had better manners…” Dean’s brother Sam tosses out, coupled with a bitchface Cas has seen thrown Dean’s way countless times. “Fold.”

Dean belches again. “Nah,” he says with a shit-eating grin. Cas snorts. Dean loves riling up his brother.

“So what’s the problem, mi amigo?” ever-sunny Garth asks. He throws a few chips into the center of the table.

“It’s...I dunno. Everything’s just...the positions are the same, the people are the same, gettin’ off’s the same. The whole game is the same, man.”

“You’re doin’ it wrong, then,” Lee laughs. 

It takes all of Cas’ will not to smite him on the spot. He’s sure this can’t be easy for Dean to admit to them, no matter how casual he’s trying to be. He still doesn’t understand what Dean sees in the guy.

“Huh. Straight flush,” Garth announces, to groans. He drags the pile of chips toward himself. 

“I don’t understand how it can be boring, brother,” Benny comments. “You have a different person every time. Us three on this side of the table each got one gal, and I can’t say I’m bored.”

“Liars,” Lee scoffs. “You _gotta_ be bored. Come on. Don’t you get sick of one flavor all the time? Can’t always eat vanilla.” He shudders.

“Well, it’s not _always_ exciting, but it’s always good.”

Garth agrees with Benny. “With Bess, every time is awesome.”

“Same here,” Sam chimes in.

“Well, good for you guys,” Dean snips in a way that definitely means the opposite. 

“I understand what you’re saying, Dean,” Cas says, making himself vulnerable to comfort his friend. “The same old routines have become...unsatisfying to me, too.”

“See, Cas gets me.” Dean sticks out his tongue at the rest of the group.

Cas sees Sam smirk while Benny rolls his eyes and Garth chuckles, eyes directed at the table. Cas isn’t sure what’s so funny, but the men across from them seem to to be sharing some sort of inside joke.

Dean must’ve seen Sam, too, because he barks, “What was that for? You think my best bud is a man whore?” 

“What? No, that’s not...never mind, oh my God. I’m going home. Jess and I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Yeah? Gettin’ your hair done with the wifey?”

“Kickboxing class,” Sam snaps, then mumbles, “and the farmers’ market.”

Lee snorts derisively. Cas thinks it sounds nice, but doesn’t say anything.

“The farmers’ market, that’s so hot,” Dean snarks.

“Asshole.”

“I should go, too,” Garth says, standing up and stretching. “Bess is always a little under the weather in the morning these days. That morning sickness is a killer. I do acupressure for her so she feels better. Helps a lot, she says.”

Benny groans as he rolls his neck. “Yeah, I’m gonna head out, too. Andrea hates when I come home too late. Doesn’t like being home alone in the house. Plus weekends are my one guaranteed shot at sex, so I don’t wanna piss her off.”

Cas smiles, impressed with his friends’ devotion to their wives. 

Lee taunts them all with a coughed “Whipped,” while Dean shakes his head. “You’re not bailing, are you, Cas?” Dean asks.

“No. I brought my overnight bag, remember?”

“Good. You’re the only one here I like, anyway.”

Cas knows he’s kidding, but the sentiment still warms him. And it irritates Lee, which doesn’t hurt, either.

After everyone leaves—Lee to the clubs and the others to their wives—Cas and Dean change into sleepwear and reconvene in the living room. Dean hands him another beer (his third? fourth?) and turns the TV to a “random” channel, a telenovela in Spanish (Cas isn’t convinced it was “random” at all, but rather a show his friend watches regularly). 

“So, you really bored, too?” Dean asks after a time. Cas figured something was on his mind; he was fiddling with his bottle and not really paying attention to the hot woman and equally hot man on the screen.

“Are you referencing our discussion earlier?”

“Yeah.”

Cas sighs and places his half-empty bottle on the table. “Yes.”

“I mean, it’s stupid, right? It’s like Lee said—can’t have one flavor your whole life, can you? Those guys got vanilla, and we got, like, Heavenly Hash. We get more ass than any of ‘em, variety up the wazoo—”

Cas giggles at Dean’s phrasing. Yes, he’s feeling the alcohol. He’s definitely on his fourth beer. 

“Shut up.” Dean shoves Cas playfully. “I mean, why are we bored? None of them are bored.”

“So they said.”

“Yeah. But they gotta be, boinkin’ one person, right?”

“I dunno. If boredom is based on numbers, then they must be. But if it’s not, then not necessarily.”

“You mean, like, you think they spice it up in other ways?”

“They must. They didn’t complain.”

“Yeah.” Dean twists his mouth thoughtfully. Cas traces the movement with his eyes; he just stops himself from following that up with his fingertip. _Knock it off_. He rubs a hand across his tired face. 

“What do you think they do? To, you know, keep it fresh?”

“I have no idea.” He looks up at Dean’s ceiling, where two fans are turning lazily. No, just one. “Different positions?”

“Yeah, but we’ve both done different positions, right? I mean, you’re not a straight-up missionary guy, are ya, Cas?”

“I’m not a straight-up anything.”

Dean chuckles.

“But it might be different when you’re with one person all the time,” Cas reasons. “They must have things they like and do regularly. Routines. So maybe they do new positions and that’s enough. Or maybe different kinds of sex sometimes. Like anal.” Something about that is absurdly funny, so Cas starts snickering and says, “Our poker buddies have anal. They poke-her.”

“Dude.” Dean laughs as he kicks Cas’ shin gently. “Don’t wanna think of my sister-in-law havin’ anal. Or Bess, for fuck’s sake.”

“Those two are probably kinky as shit, Dean. ‘Sides,” he says, still snickering because he knows the reaction he’s about to get, “might not be Jess takin’ it up the wazoo.”

Gagging sounds fill the room as Dean leans over dramatically, looking like a cat coughing up a hairball. Cas loses it, the two fans blurring as his eyes well up with tears of laughter.

“Aw, man, fuck you, now I’m thinkin’ of Sammy takin’ it in the ass!” Dean squawks, shoving him. He’s not angry, Cas knows, because his smile breaks through his disgusted façade.

“Toys. Maybe they use toys,” Cas says, returning to their theorizing.

“Well, yeah, they’d have to on Sam.”

“Not just Sam. I mean couples in general. To spice things up.”

“Oh. Yeah, maybe. I’ve used toys, though. They’re just okay.” He pauses, his head rolling on the back of the couch. “Ugh.”

“What?”

“I’m still thinkin’ of Sammy with a dildo in his ass.”

“Stop thinking of your brother with a dildo in his ass.”

“You think I wanna be thinking of my brother with a dildo in his ass?”

“Now you’re grossing _me_ out, stop it.”

“I CAN’T, DAMN YOU!”

“Think of someone else! Benny! Think of Benny!”

“No! Gross! Dude’s married! And my friend!”

“Bet you used to, though,” Cas teases. Dean confided in him one drunken night that he had a secret crush on Benny years ago, when they first met and Dean was just starting to act on his feelings for men. That crush is long over, but he has to bring it up every so often anyway, just to rile him up.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Dean kicks him in the calf repeatedly, but his bare foot hardly hurts.

Cas laughs, then grins at Dean. “Just givin’ you shit.” He points to the TV. “Think of that guy with a cock up his ass.”

Dean pauses and stares at the screen, where the man in a suit is engaged in a fiery argument with the woman, who appears to be his secretary. “Yeah, okay, better,” he chuckles. “Much better.”

As Dean drools, Cas thinks that’s a sight he wouldn’t mind seeing, either. Or doing. He’s always had a fantasy about that—the boss and the secretary. He wouldn’t care which role he played. “Roleplay,” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“Maybe they do roleplay. That would spice things up.”

“Maybe.” Dean sits sideways, his attention back on Cas. “Have you ever done roleplay?”

“Not really. Tried a couple of times. It...did not go well.” Thinking of how truly awkward those encounters were, he shudders and swigs his beer.

“I wanna hear about that,” Dean chuckles. “Roleplay. Yeah, that would be fun. If you could actually get into it. Gotta be committed to make that shit work.”

“Right.”

They grow quiet. Dean stares at him like he stared at the guy on TV, who now seems to be having sex with his secretary on the desk. “You know, we were pretty good actors in high school.”

Cas remembers drama club fondly. It was where they met. He squints. “Yeah, I remember. Been a while.”

Dean huffs. “Yeah.” Dean’s hand, limp between them, twitches toward him, but goes for his bottle of beer instead. Casually and without eye contact, he asks, “Think your acting skills are still up to par?”

“I guess. Not like I’ve had reason to use them.” _Much._

Raising his eyes and licking his lips, Dean says hesitantly, “Well, you’re bored with your sex life, I’m bored with my sex life, we’re both good actors...what do you think?”

* * *

Dean can’t believe Cas said yes. To roleplaying sex games. With him. And tonight, they’re planning out their scenes.

His sex life has suddenly taken a wild turn.

Cas doesn’t even knock as he comes into Dean’s house. He knows he’s welcome there any time. With him comes the smell of Szechuan chicken and lo mein and the rattle of glass bottles. Dean would’ve cooked, but he had to work later than usual and he’s a little keyed up, anyway. God bless Cas for knowing him so well that he brought over takeout without even asking. Cas is still dressed in the suit he wears for work, but has his overnight bag with him. He must’ve thought the same thing as Dean—that they might have to get drunk after they talk about this.

Dean smiles warmly at him as he helps him with his things. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello. I’m gonna hit the bathroom and change. Be right back.”

When Cas comes back a few minutes later, he’s dressed in a t-shirt with the character Plankton from _SpongeBob SquarePants_ on the front and designer navy joggers with little alligators all over them that he got from Nordstrom Rack when he was looking for a gift for his mom. Dean knows Cas didn’t buy them because they were designer; he bought them for the damn alligators. He knows this because he was delighted that he’d have pants to “match” the bright green novelty alligator socks he had that look like they’re eating his feet. He called him “bougie” anyway and Cas had to ask what that meant. His confused pout still makes Dean smile. 

“Much better,” Cas sighs, collapsing next to Dean on the couch where they talked about roleplaying sex last week and are about to talk about it again. 

Dean hands him one of the fancy microbrews he brought over; they raise their open bottles to each other, then drink. What taste Cas lacks in clothing, he more than makes up for in beer. Dean buys the same cheap stuff as his father, but loves that Cas buys the more expensive stuff (and shares it). 

“How was your day?” Cas asks after a long swallow.

Dean is relieved not to be starting with their plan, because he’s an avoidant shit and because he had a bit of a rough day and Cas never minds listening to him bitch. Just being with Cas makes him relax, which makes him realize how hungry he is. He stuffs his mouth with lo mein. “Sucked,” he says around the noodles.

“Oh? Why?”

They talk. Cas had a shit day, too, so between them they spend the next hour griping and giving each other unconditional, unquestioned support. When Cas brings a white pastry box and two more microbrews to the table, Dean groans. He opens the box. “Dude, marry me,” he says as his gaze lands on a juicy strawberry-rhubarb pie.

“I suppose we could roleplay our wedding, as long as we include the honeymoon,” he jokes, leading them into the anticipated conversation as only Cas can—gently, with humor and no judgment about Dean putting it off until now. Hell, maybe they both put it off.

“We’d have to go to Hawaii, though, make it really authentic.” Dean turns to him and grins. 

“Of course. All you’d have to do is get on the plane.”

Dean flips him off, then cuts a slice of pie for each of them and hands Cas his slice on a paper plate along with the fresh beer he opened for him. They clink their bottles together and don’t talk about it for another hour as they meander from topic to topic and drink and eat. 

“Okay,” Dean finally says in the middle of his third beer. They’d agreed no more than three each before their talk, knowing that they need to be level-headed. Dean could probably go for about three more, though. He picks up a notebook with some business’ logo Cas gave him from a conference he went to. “So, we’re doing this?”

“If you still want to. No pressure.”

“Pfft. Course I want to. I’m desperate here.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Dean’s eyes flick to Cas’. “Not what I meant and you know it,” he grumbles with an amused purse of his lips. “Just wanna get things jump-started again, and your hot ass is gonna help me.”

“God knows nothing else is gonna help you.” His friend’s eyes sparkle with mirth and his smirk is a sinful streak across his face. Though Cas is quieter about it, Dean knows that smirk and those eyes get him all the ass he wants, despite his occasional social awkwardness around people he doesn’t know well and his interesting clothing choices. 

Dean shakes his head. “Oh, shit, I was gonna tell you something, what was it...oh yeah, fuck you.”

Cas bursts into bubbly laughter, the nose-scrunching kind that always makes Dean feel bubbly, too, for whatever reason. He joins in, laughing at Cas and himself and he doesn’t know what else, just that as long as Cas is laughing, he’s laughing.

When they simmer down, Cas drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “Okay, so. Rules?” 

“Uh, rule one: we talk.”

“Well, might as well give up now.”

“Again, fuck you.”

Cas snorts. “Yes, okay, we talk. If it gets weird or there's something we don’t like—”

“Or something we really do like,” Dean says, wiggling his brows.

“Or that,” Cas grins. “Talk. Okay. Other rules?”

“Uh, I guess talking covers the big stuff. Uh, any kind of sex you don’t want?”

“No gore, no watersports or scat, no breath play—that shit freaks me out—no hardcore BDSM.”

“Aww, so I can’t tie you to the bed?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Dean’s brows rise as his pulse quickens. “Okay.”

“That’s about it for me. You?”

“Uh, I agree with everything you said. We can talk about the rest as we need to. Uh, condoms, yeah?”

“I’m clean, but yeah, sure. I use them with everyone else.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m clean, though, just so you know, in case we cha—uh, I mean, I’m sure it won’t come up, but yeah.”

“I hope it comes up.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “If only Sam knew how childish you actually are.”

“He’d never believe it.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Dean shakes his head. “Okay, so...what do we wanna do?”

They talk about some things each of them have imagined. Cas has apparently imagined a _lot_ . Dean doesn’t share that he hadn’t considered roleplay all that much before, both because he doesn’t want to make Cas uncomfortable and because he doesn’t want to blow it. He _has_ imagined having sex with Cas—because _look at him, duh_ —and he’ll be damned if he misses his chance with his hot friend. Plus, if he can bring some spark back into his sex life, he’d be really grateful. When the sex isn’t hot, what else do you have? Vanilla, that’s what.

When they’re done, they have a plan and a lengthy list. Maybe they’ll get to all of them, maybe not. They haven’t put a date on when they’re going to end this thing. As soon as their cocks are rockin’ again, he supposes. Although…

“Hey Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we gonna be having sex with other people when we’re doing this?”

The question seems to stymie Cas as much as it is Dean. “Uh. Well. I...I don’t know? Should we?”

“I don’t...I don’t know. Maybe not? Maybe it’s best not to mess with the purity of the experiment?”

“Yeah. Yeah, right.”

“I mean, we could do this once and hate it and then it’s a moot point. Or we could do it a few times and get things going again, and that’ll be that. Or…” Another thought comes to mind. He dismisses it as foolish. “Anyway. What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to be having sex with you every week. That’s enough for me. If you’re decent at it, that is.”

Dean scowls at Cas’ frustratingly adorable smirk. “And once again I say, fuck you.”

Cas blows him a kiss, then grows serious. “So, no one else. Just us exclusively?”

A hot shiver races through his body. Why, Dean’s not sure. He’s never had that sort of reaction to being exclusive before. “Yup. Just us.”

They nod and stare at each other until Dean’s phone reminds him that the game is starting. He taps his phone to silence it, then moves to get more beer—but Cas stops him.

“And hey, if one of us doesn’t want to anymore, we just say so. No big deal.” 

“Right. No big deal. Still best buds.”

They smile at each other.

“And, um, we’re gonna be good, right?” Dean asks, wagging his finger between them. Having sex is never a big deal to him (beyond enthusiastic and unequivocal consent), since he doesn’t hang out with his hookups after, but this is _Cas_. 

“Of course.”

“’Kay. Good.”

They smile again, Dean’s nerves abating and Cas’ seeming to as well as he sinks into the couch.

And now that they’ve had their talk and Cas’ fancy beer is gone, Dean grabs some of the cheap stuff (that Cas only drinks when he’s already buzzed) for both of them and turns on the TV. They sit and watch the game.

Though, mostly, Dean watches Cas, sitting on his couch in his comfy clothes and drinking his beer, and wonders how the hell he looks so good doing it.


	2. Hello, Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a chapter today because I was just too darn excited. :P
> 
> See chapter tags at the end if you want to! :)

Cas is nervous as hell, but more excited than he’s been in a long time, too.

Tonight, he’s going to a bar, and he’s guaranteed to hook up because he’s hooking up with Dean, his best friend.

Or in this case, “Dan,” a stranger.

It seems almost redundant to do this roleplay—after all, this is how they get most, if not all, of their partners. But that was the beauty of it, they’d decided. It was familiar, so the roles wouldn’t feel that odd or foreign. Cas thinks it might also ease their anxiety (or his, anyway) over the things that _are_ foreign—like the two of them having sex. That’s pretty big, and they probably didn’t talk about it nearly enough, but he thinks it’ll be okay. It’s just sex. What’s between them has always been there and will continue to be there, no matter what happens. He hopes.

He’ll just know what Dean sounds like when he comes...what he looks like...what he feels like...what it’ll feel like to come at his hands. It’s something he’s wondered about for...well, a while now.

Cas wipes his face, sweeping those thoughts away. This little experiment isn’t about sex with Dean; it’s about sex using roleplay. He just happens to be doing it _with_ Dean, someone he’s closer to and trusts more than anyone else in his life. 

He finishes dinner in his little apartment, then showers, shaves, and pads into his bedroom, where his clothes are laid out on his bed. He doesn’t _have_ to look good for Dean, but he wants to be attractive. For his role, of course. He shimmies into a tight pair of jeans and a trim, understated short-sleeved button-down he bought directly off a mannequin at a trendy clothing store earlier this week so he would seem more “new” to Dean (and more his type—he knows Dean wouldn’t hook up with someone like Cas). 

Dean texted him earlier, telling him he’ll be at The Avenue. Neither of them have been there, which is what they wanted. After killing another hour at home, he takes an Uber to the bar.

He gets lots of appraising looks and smiles as he walks in, which boosts his confidence a little. Looking around, he stops short at the sight of Dean, sitting at the bar and flirting with a pretty redhead. He looks effortlessly incredible—he’s wearing one of Cas’ favorite shirts (though he’s sure Dean doesn’t know that) and his hair is a little messier than usual. Maybe it’s on purpose, or maybe he’s as nervous as Cas is. Cas selfishly hopes it’s the latter.

He takes a seat at the bar and orders a beer. When the cold beverage is in his hand, he turns in his seat to scan the crowd, then glances over at Dean.

Dean doesn’t acknowledge his presence. Does he even know he’s here? Does he still want to do this?

Or maybe it’s part of the act.

Cas takes a deep breath. _Okay. Time to seduce._

He goes out to dance to whatever shitty music is playing. It sounds like a mix of country and EDM, which is incomprehensible to him. But he loosens his inhibitions as he loosens his hips, letting them roll to the beat, pretending this is something he does all the time rather than something he usually watches from the sidelines. 

A few women flit to him when he makes eye contact with them and smiles, inviting them over with a tip of his head. He knows his game isn’t nearly as strong as Dean’s—he’s much more comfortable having people approach him, since he knows he’s not everyone’s cup of tea (Lee calls him a “special flower”)—but he can fake it well enough for a few hours, and it’s easier when he’s pretending not to be himself. They surround him. He flirts with each one, keeping in mind a few moves he’s seen Dean do, but keeps his hands off. He doesn’t need to touch; he simply needs Dean’s attention. They touch him, though, and boldly. He laughs about it as he raises his arms and sways. It’s kind of fun to be wanted. A few men join them, too. He flirts just as much with them, and the ones that aren’t into it step away while those who are curious stick around. Sipping on his (rather disgusting) beer, he finally casts a casual glance at Dean...who’s looking back with interest.

The game is afoot.

Cas keeps dancing, sneaking peeks at Dean every so often. Sometimes he’s looking, and sometimes he’s paying some semblance of attention to the woman beside him. At one point, Cas allows one of the men to grind along his front. He peers over the man’s shoulder to find Dean outright staring at him. 

He blows him a kiss.

Dean—no, Dan, though Cas isn’t supposed to know that yet—smirks, then licks his lips.

Cas holds his gaze and bites down on his bottom lip as Grinding Guy grabs his hips and slowly drops them toward the floor, one of the women running her fingers through his hair as she plasters herself along his back. He’s already feeling more sensual, more amped than he has in a long time. Any one of these people would be someone he might hook up with on any other night.

But Cas only has eyes for the man at the bar.

When the song ends, he throws back the rest of his beer and thanks his partners for the dance, then shakes his empty bottle as his excuse to break away. 

He strides to the bar, but bypasses Dean to get another beer.

Dean is at his side before he even gets his order out of his mouth.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Buy you a drink?”

Cas lets his eyes roam down Dean’s body and back up before settling on his face. “Sure. Bud Light.”

He hates Bud Light. But he’s not Cas right now.

If Dean’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “My kinda guy.” He orders, and they take their first couple of sips without speaking.

“I’m Dan,” Dean says, extending his hand.

Cas takes it. “I’m Cal.”

“Cal? That short for something?”

“Just Cal. It’s the only short thing about me.”

Dean snorts, and Cas does, too. This feels ridiculous, but also ten kinds of hot, so he hopes he didn’t break the mood just now with his stupid line.

“Hmm. Well, Cal, that’s good to know.”

Relieved that Dean is continuing to play along, he says, “Is it?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Cas sips at his bottled piss. Ugh, he really hates this stuff. He wishes Cal had better taste in beer.

Dean lets his pinky graze Cas’. “I might need to verify that information, though.”

“Oh?” Cas leans into Dean’s space. “You don’t trust me?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know you.”

“Hmm. Well, you’ll have to convince me.”

“Convince you of what?”

“To show you. So you can verify the information.”

“How do I convince you, Cal?”

Cas stifles his chuckle at what he’s about to ask, pinning him with come hither eyes. He fingers Dean’s collar. “Dance with me.”

Dean hates dancing, seeing it mostly as a means to an end (that end being someone’s bed, which is what’s going to happen here, too, Cas supposes), and he’s certain he hates this music as much as he does, but Dean doesn’t bat an eye. Instead, he stands and leads him to the floor, tugging their hips together. “Saw you out here,” he murmurs, ending on a moan as Cas grinds against him. 

“Did you?”

“Fuck.”

“Mmm.”

“You knew what you were doing to me, didn’t you?”

“I knew what I wanted to do to you.”

The boldness Cal has is thrilling compared to Cas’ own tendency toward subtlety and, well, awkwardness. More thrilling, though, is when Dean touches his forehead to Cas’ as he rubs his obviously hard dick against him. “And what did you want to do to me?” he asks against Cas’ lips.

For a moment, Cas panics. If they cross this line, there’s no going back, their friendship forever changed. He wonders if it’s worth it. But he's confident in their friendship, sure that this won’t change what matters. It’s only sex. Besides, he reminds himself, this isn’t Dean. This is a handsome stranger named Dan. And, well, Cal is really horny, and Dan wants him. He traces his dance partner’s bottom lip with his tongue. “I wanted to show you.”

Dean— _Dan—_ plunders his mouth, his tongue warm and wet with the taste of cheap beer and something salty. Cas opens for him, moans with him as they cling to and grind against each other on the floor, more sex than dancing. The thrill is like no other; he _wants_ with all he has. 

When he thought about how this roleplay would go down, he’d imagined they'd go back to Dean's place, but he’s not sure he can wait.

Dean, for his part, seems to be losing it. He grabs his ass, practically humps him, mumbles incoherently. Cas is thrilled his hookup is just as lost as he is.

“Wanna show you. Now,” Cas says, desperate and needy. “Bathroom.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”

They trip over other people and their own feet in their haste to get to the bathroom. There’s one man in there washing his hands. Cas has never used a public bathroom for sex, thinking himself too dignified but in reality too shy for such a thing. But Cal—Cal isn’t shy. In the mirror, Cal meets the eyes of the man and smiles mischievously before dragging Dean into a stall. 

It’s tight for two men their size. And he isn’t sure what to do with himself, whether he’s supposed to stand or sit or what. But Cal would know—Cal wouldn’t hesitate—so he throws Dean—Dan—against the door and rucks up his shirt enough to get to his belt. 

Dean groans as Cas manages to unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants. Cas slips his hand in, massaging Dean’s dick and watching the color rise high in his cheeks, the sweat highlighting the rosy hue. “Like that, Dan?” he rumbles.

“Love it, Cal, fuck.” 

“You have a dirty mouth.”

“You should wash it out for me.”

Their mouths crash together. Cas feels Dean’s hands on his jeans, and soon he feels them on his bare cock. They slide each other’s pants down to their knees, then jerk each other off, words and noises of praise bitten off by hot, hurried kisses. Everything is hurried, the idea of being caught and getting into trouble driving them. Or Cas, anyway.

It’s that same idea that has Cas’ orgasm slamming into him, the speed and intensity surprising him into a loud, harsh cry. Dean covers his mouth too late, but Cas is right on time as Dean quickly follows, his cut-off cry high-pitched and so fucking arousing that Cas wishes he could hear it again immediately.

When their breathing evens out, they clean up with toilet paper and flush it down, then exit the stall. Two guys at the urinals won’t look at them, but Cas couldn’t care less because he just had incredible bathroom sex with the hottest man in the club. They wash up, then head back into the bar.

“Well, I’ll be seein’ ya, Cal,” Dean—Dan—says. “Thanks for that. You were awesome.”

“Same. I’ll be thinking of that for a while.”

“Hope so. See you around.”

And with that, they part, going their separate ways. 

* * *

Cas doesn’t sleep well, replaying the roleplay over and over in his mind—the intoxication of being someone else, of doing something new, of being with Dean. It was a lot. He wishes he could text him, see how he felt about things, but they’d decided beforehand that they wanted to keep it as authentic as possible, thus no messaging the hookup right after. He wonders if they need to change that for next time...if there’s a next time.

The following afternoon they meet up to discuss things, as they’d agreed to do when they started this. Cas, nervous all day, finds out he had no need to be.

The first words out of Dean’s mouth are “Dude, that was fucking awesome!”

Cas breaks into a relieved smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Dude, you got new clothes and you drank Bud and you were on your game, man. Shit.”

Cas chuckles. “I guess my acting was authentic, then?”

“A+, dude. Was it, uh…”

“It was great for me. You were incredible. I saw you working the place like you owned it and not even paying attention to me at first. Very convincing.”

“Thanks. But I saw you the whole fucking time, believe me. Um, how was the sex itself?”

How was the sex? He isn’t sure how to answer that without offering the man a glowing commendation or maybe a prize for giving him the best handjob he’s had in forever. They said they’d talk, though, and maybe Dean could use a little reassurance, too. So, at the risk of making things awkward, he decides to be honest. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Dude, me too!” Dean gushes enthusiastically, and that finally releases the knot in Cas’ chest. “Didn’t expect the bathroom, but it was great.”

Cas grimaces. “We probably should’ve talked about that.”

“Yeah, but I trusted you. I would’ve told you if I couldn’t do it.”

Dean’s trust means everything to him, so he smiles and grips his shoulder tightly. “I’m glad you would’ve said something. I want this to be good for both of us.”

“Oh, it was,” Dean jokes, then licks his lower lip. “So, next week? Another roleplay?”

Grinning at both Dean’s eagerness and his own burgeoning excitement, Cas says, “I can’t wait to see Dan again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: Hookups, strangers to lovers, bathroom sex, hand jobs
> 
> So, what did you think of their first roleplay? Seems like this roleplay thing between them won't be a big deal. It's just sex. Ahem.
> 
> Next chapter: A feast for mortal eyes.


	3. Of Gods and Mortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bow before your god. 😘
> 
> Tags in the end notes if you feel you need them! ❤️
> 
> ALSO, I know I said I was posting on Fridays, but I posted chapter 2 this past Tuesday, so if you missed it, read that first!

Dean’s embarrassed to say that he prepared a lot for this. He took the afternoon off. Bought things. Made up the room with candles and gauzy white and gold fabrics. 

He hopes Cas doesn’t think he’s an absolute idiot.

Dean has always loved theater, always loved dressing up and being someone else. As a youth, it relieved him of their dad’s iron control for a while; it gave him an escape and a sense of independence and self he didn’t have until he broke away from home. Sam says that their dad “parentified” him, and that’s probably true. Dad was a wreck after their mom’s death and put a lot on him, even though he acted like he had his shit together. He needed him to take care of Sam and the house while he worked (which was all the time), and that put him into a role that he shouldn't have had. But theater always got him out of his head. It gave him the freedom to express himself in safe ways, and he’s discovered he still loves the feeling of it. 

Cas will understand, hopefully. Cas has always understood him. 

He saw this one on a website once and was immediately intrigued, though he’d dismissed roleplay as a whole at the time. It’s far off any sort of reality he’s ever known, and that’s in part why he wanted to do it—it’s so different, so weird, that he couldn't imagine even _asking_ for this, never mind actually doing this, with a real partner. But Cas is...well, Cas is his acting partner, and actors act and don’t think their roles are strange. They just lose themselves in who they’re being at that moment. Still, he was nervous to explain his dumb idea to him when they talked. Cas, great guy that he is, reassured him it wasn’t dumb, that roleplay was about fantasy and in fantasy, almost anything goes. 

So here Dean is, dressed as a Greek god, waiting for the mortal to arrive.

And oh, what a fuckin’ sight he is. 

Dean himself looks good, he knows. He’s wearing a white cape he sewed himself, fastened with a gold, bejeweled chain over his bare chest, with a short wrap around his waist tied with the same sort of chain as his cape. His shoulder has a feathered armor detail that makes him look extra godly, and he wears a simple gold leaf crown that sets off his eyes.

But Cas... _damn_.

Cas is in a simple white toga that Dean also made. It’s draped over his tanned, fit frame, cinched at the waist with a gold rope. He’s wearing sandals that Dean bought on Amazon and had shipped two-day to make sure they’d arrive on time. His hair is combed down, a la Julius Caesar, and the fringe on his forehead gives him a completely different (hot) look. 

Oh yes, he’s going to give this human all the good graces he seeks from him. 

With Dean’s nod, Cas enters the temple (also known as Dean’s bedroom) and kneels before him. “All praise and honor I offer you, the one I am unfit to seek,” he intones, bowing to the floor and kissing the tops of his feet.

_Fuck_ , Dean’s gonna blow his load right here seeing Cas like this, having his trust and his indulgence. Dean may be a god, but Cas is the one with the power here.

“Give me your name and what it is you seek, mortal.”

“I am Callum, and I seek your healing, my lord.”

“Healing, you say.” 

“Yes.”

“And what healing requires you to seek the assistance of a god?”

“Libidinous healing, oh powerful one.”

Dean raises a brow. “Libidinous healing.”

“Yes. My sexual desires...they are unquenchable. Only you have the power to save me from myself.” Cas—Callum—meets Dean’s gaze, then slides his eyes up and down his body before settling on his face once again. Lust glitters in them; he bites his lip and moans breathily as he slips a hand under his toga. He gulps. “Please. My desire. It’s building, and I have no hope but you.”

“Stop,” Dean growls. 

“I cannot—”

Dean sweeps his hand away and up, gripping his wrist. Cas hangs in his grasp, allowing himself to be manhandled. Heat races through Dean’s veins. Sternly, he says, “You have sought my counsel. If you do not wish it, leave my temple, but do _not_ defy me, mortal, or I will smite you.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

Dean drops his hand and Cas falls onto his feet, kissing them once more. His mouth begins trailing up his shin, his hands curling around his calves. Cas moans as he rubs his face against him. Dean’s dick aches as blood fills it rapidly. He nearly falls out of character with how good it feels already, but he stops himself from floating away. “Human,” he says in warning.

“I am consumed, my lord,” Cas answers against his skin. And he is certainly acting as such, kisses turning into scrapes of teeth and swipes of tongue. 

“Enough.” He fists his hair and pulls him up; Cas’ eyes are glazed, his pupils blown wide. All Dean wants to do is kiss him and fuck him when he looks this good. But he can’t, not yet. “You are consumed, and only a god has the capacity to contain your sexual desires. I will help you.”

“Oh, I give you thanks and praise,” he whispers, thumbing over Dean’s nipple. 

The sex with Cas was so hot the first time that it takes everything Dean has to play his role with restraint and not beg Cas to lay him out and worship him. Although…

“Here is what you will do,” Dean says with an air of superiority. “You will offer up all of your sexual desires to me and me alone. You will worship me at the altar until you are cured of your excessive sexual longing.”

“I will do as you command.”

_Holy shit, his eyes and his skin and the little nod of submission…_ Dean swallows as he maintains his god-like persona as best as he can. “Kneel, human. Hands at your sides and do not sully yourself.”

Cas does as he’s told. Dean removes the cape from his shoulder, letting it slip to the floor, then spreads himself over the top of his bed. “In worship you will find your salvation. Come and release your desires upon me, mortal, but do not dare to touch yourself. Trust that I will save you.”

Cas wastes no time. Eyes dark and focused, he crawls on his knees to the bed, and _fuck is that hot._ He climbs onto it, then spends several minutes massaging and kissing every inch of Dean’s body except the inches covered in the scant clothing he’s still wearing. “I beg you to quench my desire,” he says every so often, coupled with soft whines of pleasure...pleasure he’s deriving from _Dean’s_ pleasure, since he can’t do anything about his own. He’s being _so_ good, such a loyal, faithful servant to the god. Dean reminds himself to tell him so.

But first, there are grapes to eat.

The grapes were a decoration, there only to set the mood. But now, Cas is tracing Dean’s lips with them, begging entrance into his mouth. Dean would much rather have Cas’ tongue, though—as much as he loves being worshipped, sex is more fun (and way more comfortable for Dean) when both parties can partake in the hedonism. He sits up against the multiple pillows he placed on the bed.

“Feed me, mortal.”

Cas slips the first grape into his mouth. He chews and swallows it, all while keeping his eyes locked with Cas’. He accepts a second grape, watching as Cas licks his lips and feeling Cas’ hand slide dangerously close to his groin. When he tries to feed him the third, Dean stops him. 

“My lord?”

“Feed me with your mouth, human.”

His mortal lover nods, then crawls to the bowl and picks up a grape with his teeth. He returns the same way, submission and fealty in every movement. Slowly, he inches closer until the grape is pressing against Dean’s lips. He opens just enough to make their lips graze, then coaxes the grape from him with a curl of his tongue.

Cas closes his eyes and shudders.

Dean seriously needs to move things along before he blows his load in his skirt.

Without asking, Cas retrieves another grape. This time, Dean bites it in half, taking his half and rolling it in his mouth, making a show of sucking the juice. He expects Cas to do the same.

Instead, Cas draws a trail with it around his nipples, then swallows it and follows the trail with his tongue. 

Dean’s cock lifts his wrap, confessing his desire for his faithful servant. _Jesus_ , Cas is way too good at this.

“Human,” Dean commands, fighting to keep himself in the game but ready to burst, “take the cure you seek.”

And like the consumed man he is, Cas rips off Dean’s wrap and slides his mouth all the way down his cock.

Dean cries out.

Cas moans wantonly, his fingers sinking into the meat of Dean’s ass as he sheaths his cock over and over. 

Dean grips his hair, not really guiding him so much as holding on for the ride, but Cas responds with an encouraging hum, so he tightens his grip and pretends he’s the one in charge. Tingling, burning, aching, Dean lets Cas pleasure him until he can’t hold back anymore. He bursts, coming hard and deep in Cas’ mouth, fisting his hair and curling his toes behind Cas’ back. When he’s spent, he goes lax, forgetting everything but the pleasant buzzing in his entire body, so pervasive that he even hears it vibrating in his ears.

“I—I am cured,” Cas rasps, his voice low and thready from deep-throating. “My desire has finally been quenched. I thank you.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas is on his feet at the end of the bed, bowing his head as his cock tents his toga. It looks like he’s about to leave. 

_Oh hell no_.

“Foolish human,” he says, softer than he probably should as a god, “you are not cured. Not until I pull your desire from your body.” He crawls to the end of the bed and takes Cas’ hand. “Come onto the altar.”

Cas follows Dean, who gently guides him onto his back. He lifts Cas’ toga. “Your desire is strong, but I am stronger,” he declares, then promptly swallows Cas down.

Having waited so long, the reaction is immediate. Cas shouts, his pelvis tilting up as his fingers fist the bedcovers.

“Yes, human, take. I am strong,” Dean murmurs before swallowing him again. 

So Cas takes, his thrusting rhythmic and urgent. It occurs to Dean that they didn’t use condoms, but he knows they’re both clean and he’s enjoying this way too much to stop now. He runs a hand along Cas’ thigh, then trails his fingers along his balls and then, hesitantly, along his hole.

Cas gasps. 

Dean smiles around his cock and does it again, more confidently this time. Within moments, he’s catching Cas’ thick come in his mouth, swallowing it down as if he’s sucking poison out of the man.

“There,” he whispers as Cas trembles. “Now you are quenched.”

A breathy “uh” is all the response he gets. Dean grins, pride in himself and affection for his friend swelling in his chest, before he puts on a serious face again. 

Cas opens his eyes and sits up. “Yes, I am. Finally. You have cured me,” he manages.

Dean smiles as he stands and helps Cas stand, too. “Your consumption will return. However, it will not be slaked by mere mortals. You must come to me each time for worship and healing.”

With wonder in his eyes, Cas whispers, “You will have me?”

_Oh, will I have you._ He strokes Cas’ hair. “I will.”

Once again, Cas bows, lower this time. “Thank you for your tender mercy. If it pleases you, I will take my leave now so you may return to your godly affairs.” 

It doesn’t please him, Dean is flustered to find, but he nods. “You may go.”

With a short dip of his chin, Cas turns and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

Dean slips on his favorite black lounge pants, then sits on his bed heavily, rubbing his face and taking deep breaths. That was intense. They didn’t talk after the first roleplay, not for nearly a day, and he had regretted it, because that had been pretty damn intense, too. He’d been excited, scared, and all kinds of things in between, and his nerves were zipping around at a million miles an hour until they’d talked. He’d thought maybe it was just because it was their first time, which was a big deal and perfectly understandable. But he already feels himself slipping into that same sort of buzzy feeling and he’s not sure he can take another whole day of it again—sitting with his own thoughts, wondering what Cas thought, how Cas felt. He wonders if it would be weird—

There’s a knock at his door. “Come in.”

Cas opens the door, now in faded jeans and a dizzying pink button-down with tree rings printed on it, grinning and pointing at him. “ _That_ was awesome.”

_Thank fuck._ He returns the grin, relief flooding his body palpably. Cas stayed and he seems okay. Happy, even. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t sure how it was gonna go, but _wow_. You wanna eat some sandwiches and talk?”

“Make it Spaghetti-Os and I’m there.”

“How old are you? Oh my God,” he says, but he’s smiling and shaking his head fondly. “No pun intended, by the way.” He winks (awkwardly, like he doesn’t really know how) and turns away.

It takes Dean a second to get what the pun was supposed to be, but then he laughs like an idiot. Everything’s fine. Yes, they just shared amazing blowjobs, but Cas is still his snarky, dorky best friend who accepts him as he is, even with his weird ideas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: blowjobs, references to parentified Dean, god/mortal roleplay, light submission (because one of them is a god)
> 
> Cas’ tree rings shirt: [Tree Rings Shirt](https://www.dresslily.com/tree-rings-print-button-up-product8353451.html)
> 
> Sooo...a bit of otherworldly fantasy in there! Dean does like fantasy...we’ll see more of that later. What did you think about Dean’s investment? Do you think his investment in this will translate into other sorts of investment later? And most importantly, what would Dean be the god of? Answer below! 
> 
> Next chapter: I’d like to see you in my office.


	4. Paradigm Shifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for the chapter in the end notes if you feel you need them. ❤️
> 
> This is a pretty fun, light chapter! Enjoy!

He really shouldn’t be doing this. But as he sits at his desk on a Saturday morning, Cas finds the “shouldn’t” just adds to his excitement. It’s against the rules. They could be caught somehow. He’s going to be aroused every time he comes to work, and his office might still smell like sex on Monday.

He sure hopes it does.

Today, Dean’s coming to be his administrative assistant for the morning...a morning that will end in Dean being bent over his desk. He opens his right-hand drawer again. The condoms and lube are still sitting atop the stash of snacks he keeps there. Damn, he may get aroused at the sight of the Cheez-Its box next time he reaches in for a mid-afternoon boost. 

This roleplay isn’t even all that novel. It’s tame, really, definitely not wild like the god-mortal roleplay they did. But he’s had it in his mind for years, and it’ll never come to fruition otherwise—because it’s sexual harassment, of course, but also, bedding his 68-year-old assistant who’s like his mom? No.

He hears Dean come into the office, whistling as he places his things down. He fixes the computer-printed placard he tented on his desk—Cal Newman, the last name chosen because it’s roughly the English translation of Novak, according to Ancestry.com—and adjusts his tie. _Okay. Game on._

Dean enters the office, dressed in a white dress shirt and charcoal dress pants he last saw when they attended Sam and Jess’ rehearsal dinner. He looks just as good now as he did then...except today he’s getting something way better than lukewarm lasagna.

Dean’s eyes flick to the placard, then to Cas. “Morning, Mr. Newman,” Dean purrs. “Brought your coffee.”

“Thank you, Dan.” He takes a sip and nods in approval. “You know just how I like it.”

Dean smooths his hands over the front of his pants. “I aim to please, sir.”

“I know you do, Dan.”

Averting his eyes shyly (clearly an act; Dean is _not_ shy), Dean says, “I’ll be at my desk, unless you need me for anything, sir?” He raises his head and stares at Cas, licking his lips and rubbing the side of his neck.

Cas clears his throat. “No, that’ll be all. Perhaps we can touch base later.”

Dean nods. “I’d be happy to _touch base_ later.” He steps out, a sway in his step, his pants doing wonderful things for his ass.

There will be nothing tame about this roleplay. 

A few minutes later, Cas wanders into the reception area, empty save for Dean, who’s typing on his laptop. He hands him a set of papers. Dean turns his attention toward him, and Cas notices his shirt has a couple of buttons undone, ones he swears were buttoned before. “I have a task for you.”

“Oh? Is this for the Seraphim project?” Dean asks, batting his lashes. 

Cas suppresses a chuckle. After their god and mortal roleplay, they’d jokingly discussed an angel/human variation. He assumes the Seraphim thing is in reference to that. “Yes.”

“Great. I’ll get right on this.”

“I know you will. You’re fantastic at your job.” Daring to do what he’d never do in real life with an employee, he cards his fingers through his assistant’s hair.

“Thank you, sir,” Dean breathes. “I really want to work my way up the pegging order.”

Cas lets his fingers brush Dean’s face. “I know.”

“I’d love to be more than just your assistant.”

“Of course.”

“I have lots of ideas. Maybe we can run a few up the flagpole.”

Dean is really going to test him with these innuendos, the cheeky asshole. Swallowing hard, Cas nods. “We’ll set up a one-on-one meeting.”

“That would be perfect,” Dean says, giving Cas a very obvious once-over. “One-on-one is how I do some of my best work.”

“Well, we’ll see later, won’t we, Dan?” He inclines his head toward the stack of papers, which are mostly blank except for the to-do list for the barbecue they’re co-hosting at Dean’s tomorrow. “Get to work.”

Cas heads back to his office and closes the door. _Fuck_ , what that man does to him...challenging him, goading him, riling him up, pissing him off, making him laugh, listening to him, accepting him, caring about him. And now, he’s lucky enough to have sex with him. He sighs with a smile as he settles into his chair and checks his email while he waits to see what Dean does next.

A few minutes later, he’s not disappointed. Dean knocks, and when Cas tells him to come in, he sees that Dean is wearing glasses and has another button undone. He's never seen Dean in glasses, and the look is... _mmm_. 

“Finished, Mr. Newman,” he murmurs demurely, handing the stack back to him (with notes on the next page, he notices).

“That was very efficient, Dan,” Cas says, taking off his own glasses he uses when he’s on his computer.

“Yes, sir.” He sits in the chair in front of Cas’ desk, hands tucked between his legs right near his crotch. Cas can see the outline of his cock under his pants. He’s probably been touching himself out there. The thought has Cas adjusting himself under the desk. 

Dean notices. “Is there anything else I can help you with, sir? It would be my pleasure to assist you with anything you need. Anything at all.”

Cas meets his heated gaze steadily, then rounds his desk and sits on the edge, directly in front of Dean. “I think we could have that meeting now. Let’s talk about how you could contribute to the team.”

Rolling a shoulder like some sort of cover girl, Dean says, “Well, I like to think”—he shoots a look at Cas’ crotch—“ _outside_ the box.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmhmm. I think that the old ways of doing things are passé, don’t you?”

Thinking about their current arrangement and what brought them to it, Cas agrees, “Oh, certainly.”

“I like fresh ideas. Paradigm shifts.”

“Mmm.”

“Though we can always circle back.” Dean squirms, then shoots a little glance at his seat over his shoulder. _Was he making a reference to his ass? Circling back...out back...circling his tongue around his—_

Clearing his throat, Cas says, “Yes. Circling back is good. Uh, tell me more about your work philosophy.”

“Well, I’m all about getting results,” he answers darkly. “Big, explosive results.”

Cas exhales shakily.

“I believe it’s important to take the real work offline, don’t you? To, you know, put in some face time.” 

“Uh huh,” Cas utters, nodding dumbly.

“I’d never be complacent. I like to push the envelope. I think my skill set is just what you need.”

“Well, perhaps it is,” Cas responds, licking his lips. “But I need to know if you can walk the walk, not just talk the talk.”

“Of course, sir. I would be happy to do an in-person demonstration. Show you my deliverables. Prove how agile and detail-oriented I am.” He plants a hand on Cas’ knee.

“I shouldn’t,” he breathes.

“Oh, Mr. Newman.” Dean walks to the door and locks it, then tosses his glasses to the floor. Biting his lip, he prowls toward Cas, still perched on the desk. Cas’ heart hammers in his chest as Dean takes his head in his hands and slides his mouth along Cas’ jaw until he gets to his ear. “I could assist you soooo good. Right here. You could discover all my assets.” He pulls one of Cas’ hands to his ass, then bites at his earlobe. “Please don’t tell me I wore my prettiest pair of panties for nothing.”

Losing his cool at the image of Dean in panties, Cas stands and presses a hard, claiming kiss to his assistant’s mouth. Dean returns it, every bit the sassy secretary as he hums and nips and unbuttons the rest of his shirt. As soon as his skin is revealed, Cas’ hands find it; they roam and pinch and scratch, making his assistant gasp. 

“Wanted you forever,” Dean—Dan—pants. “You drive me crazy in those suits and ties.”

“You drive me crazy fluttering your pretty lashes and talking back to me.” Cas flicks Dean’s nipple.

“I’m taking that suit right off you.” He begins to untie Cas’ tie. Cas stops him. 

“Excuse me,” he rumbles. He grasps Dean’s biceps and moves him back, placing an arm’s length of space between them. “I’m the boss here. You’ll do it when I say so. _If_ I say so.”

Dean palms his erection over his pants. “Fuckin’ yes, sir.”

Cas suspects a little bleed-through in Dean’s acting there. _Interesting. And unexpected_. He folds his arms and purses his lips, continuing to feign sternness even though it feels strange for him, for _them_...though they’re not _them_ right now. “Show me your assets.”

With a slow, sultry smile, Dean lets his white button-down slip off his arms. He toes off his shoes, then his socks. Finally, he lets his pants fall to the floor...and he is, indeed, wearing royal blue lacy panties, out of which his cock is standing proudly, like a big _fuck you_ to gender norms. 

“Holy fuck,” Cas murmurs in a little bleed-through of his own. 

When he tears his eyes off the panties and meets Dean’s gaze, there’s apprehension there that he can’t hide, no matter how hard he tries. Cas knows him too well. He’s not sure if this is a new thing or a regular thing for his friend, but either way, he wants to reassure him. So Cas reaches for his hand, gently drawing him forward and switching their positions so that Dean’s thighs are pressed lightly against the desk now. He rests his hands on the lace at Dean’s hips and looks into his eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “So fucking sexy.”

Dean launches himself at him, pulling him into a searing kiss. Cas doesn’t bother to fight back with an “I’m the boss” argument. Why would he when he’s being kissed like this? He tightens his hold of Dean’s hips, playing with the lace. Dean moans, hanging on to him tighter and practically pouring himself into his mouth. Dean grinds their cocks together, silk and polyester gliding effortlessly, until he pulls away with a noisy smack of lips. Cas just barely restrains a needy whine.

“How do you want me?” Dean asks breathlessly.

There are so many possibilities, but Cas has dreamed about this one all morning...longer, if he’s honest. He’s had this fantasy for a while. “Hands on my desk, back to me. You’re going to tell me your ideas for the project and why I should promote you while I fuck you in these pretty panties.”

Dean chokes, his eyes widening, before he turns and leans on the desk. Needing to retrieve the lube and a condom, he lets himself slide his hand across the silky curves of Dean’s ass as he goes. _Damn_ , it’s a fine ass. He retrieves the supplies and returns quickly, kissing Dean’s shoulders as he unfastens his pants and lets them and his boxers slip to the floor. “Talk to me,” he purrs as he situates his cock against Dean’s ass. 

“Fuck. Um, I’m reliable.”

“Mmmhmm.” He gently thrusts his cock, pushing the silky fabric between Dean’s cheeks.

“I’m a team player.”

“Are you? That’s good in some situations, not in others.”

“Yeah, no, only in the riiiight situations,” Dean croaks as Cas cups his balls. “I’m very loyal.”

“Good.”

“Um. I—I’m always clear. Wouldn’t have to worry about crossed lines with me.”

“We’re past crossing lines, aren’t we, Dan?” He strokes Dean’s shaft.

“Unhhgh.”

Cas smiles against Dean’s neck. “What else?”

“Mmm, uh, I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“That’s good. I need someone who can keep up with me.” He nibbles at Dean’s earlobe as his hands and pelvis work Dean over.

“Yeah, ohhhh...yeah. I’m good with numbers, too. I love focusing on the bottom line.”

Cas almost laughs. Instead, he drops to his knees to focus on Dean’s bottom line. He shimmies his panties down, then parts his cheeks. He pauses, nervously wondering whether he should do this—it’s so _intimate_ —but Dean whispers “Please” and his anxiety dissipates. He strokes a finger between his cheeks to his hole.

Dean gasps.

He follows it with his tongue. 

Dean gasps again, then whimpers as his head drops and he spreads his legs wider.

Taking that as consent, he presses a kiss to the curve of his ass and says, “Keep talking.”

Soon he’s a tongue and two fingers into Dean’s ass, stopping whenever Dean stops talking. “You have to convince me to promote you for the project,” he rumbles while Dean claws the desk and moans. 

“Okay. Fuck, um, budget is important...have to crunch the numbers and drill downnnnoooohhhhhh!” Dean wails when Castiel does what he’s suggesting, rubbing against his prostate mercilessly.

“And?”

“And... _fuck_...I’d…”

“Don’t stop now,” Cas says as he rips open a condom with his teeth. 

“Synergy...um...capital gains...”

He’s just uttering nonsense buzzwords, but Dean’s obvious pleasure and willingness to do as Cas says (or Dan’s willingness to do as Cal says, rather) is still making him incredibly aroused. He pulls his fingers out of Dean, giving him a quick break as he rolls the condom onto his cock. “Ready?”

“Please, yes, yes, please…”

He slowly pushes into Dean, pausing when either of them need it, until he’s inside him to the hilt. 

“Fuck, sir, please,” Dean whines when Cas doesn’t move, overwhelmed.

Cas takes a deep breath. “Back to your vision about the project,” he says, getting his mind back into the roleplay.

“Okay...um, we need to have a real game changer…”

“Mmmhmm…” Cas hums, pulling out and pushing in again.

“Ungggghhh...”

Cas fucks Dean hard as he mutters about “low-hanging fruit” and “bandwidth” and “brainstorming” until neither of them can talk anymore. His office is filled with grunts and groans and squelching lube. When he’s close to the edge (and senses Dean is, too), he wraps a hand around Dean’s neglected cock. Dean cries out and leans forward, changing his position just enough so that Cas is nailing his prostate. With a few more strokes, Dean spills all over the large calendar on top of the desk. The sight of it, coupled with knowing that he’ll have to tell anyone who asks that ha ha, yes, he spilled his water and it wrinkled the page, sends him over the edge, filling the condom as he comes inside his best frie—no, his assistant—for the first time. 

“Ohhhh,” Cas sighs, running his hand down Dean’s damp back. 

“Mmmm,” Dean answers, slumped on the desk now and looking ready for a nap. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Newman.”

“My door is always open, Dan.”

After a minute, they clean up and dress, then face each other. Neither of them seem quite sure what to do. 

Dean rubs his hands together, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Sooooo...” He looks up. “Do I get the promotion?” 

Cas can’t help but grin at Dean’s sassy smirk. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

They share a loud, long laugh.

“Lunch and talk, then we’ll get shit ready for the barbecue tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll buy.”

“You don’t have to, Cas.”

“I know, but I want to give you a proper welcome to the team.”

“Gotta say, I’m feeling pretty welcome.”

They laugh again, relaxed and happy and, on Cas’ part, relieved and grateful that nothing has changed between them. 

* * *

Dean stands at the grill, his brain and hands working on autopilot to cook hamburger patties and chicken breasts as his mind floats to Cas and their day yesterday. 

The roleplay was _hot_. Cas was definitely all his boss fantasies come true...he was even hotter than that guy on the telenovela he watches when he _happens_ to catch it. Dean’s glad he researched some office lingo while he was in the reception area, because that part was a lot of fun and Cas seemed into it. Dean was into it, too—the lingo, sure, but also the conditions under which he was reciting it. He kind of liked being bossed around, letting Cas be in control. He’s not sure why...probably because it was different from his other sexual encounters, where he never gives up control like that. Can’t, really, when you don’t know someone well. Or he can’t, anyway. And Cas’ easy acceptance of the panties he dug out of the depths of his drawer was cool, too. He might’ve even liked them, which...yeah. It was cool to be able to share that with someone. 

What has him laughing even today, though, is their lunch after. They talked about the roleplay, of course (they both loved it, it met all of Cas’ expectations and then some, the sex was _fantastic_ , no, it didn’t go too far for Dean in any way, _I would’ve told you,_ _quit worrying, Cas_ ), but moved on to talking about all kinds of stupid shit, as they do. 

_“Have you ever counted your FPMs?”_

_“FPMs?”_

_“Flops per minute. You know, how often your balls flop around when you’re doing something.”_

Dean had roared at that one, getting the attention of everyone around them. He’s sure he looked extra stupid because Cas was sitting there so impassively, the little shit, but he didn’t care. He was having a good time with his friend.

The whole meal—hell, the whole afternoon—was like that.

_“Do you know there’s something called a sex snorkel?”_

_“Would you eat me if we were stuck on a mountain and you needed to survive?”_

_“If you could replicate one body part, what would it be?”_

Dean first chose an extra arm, because who couldn’t use an extra arm? But Cas chose a brain (“You need a brain to live, and there is no artificial brain yet”) or, barring that, a pinky toe attached just under his navel. (“Why?” “As a conversation piece.”) So Dean _had_ to choose an extra leg, which would allow him, among other things, to do cool parkour tricks, wipe his ass hands-free, beat Spider-Man in a fight, probably, and have a built-in seat anywhere he goes (“Plus the third wheel adds stability!” “It’s a leg.”).

He thinks about how that particular conversation devolved into absolute ridiculousness that he couldn’t possibly explain to anyone and gut-aching laughter that he only ever has with Cas because they’re that foolish together. 

“What’s with you?”

Dean blinks. Lee, Benny, Jess, and Sam are staring at him. “Huh? What?”

“You’re standing there grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet potato.”

“I’m...what?”

“You look real happy,” Benny translates with a chuckle.

“Ah.” Dean chuckles, too, then says, “Yeah, I guess. Just thinking about something Cas said.”

“That so? The hell is with you and Cas, anyway?” Lee asks, squinting. His cop senses are tingling, no doubt.

“Yeah, you guys have been weird,” Benny adds, his own cop senses on alert, it seems.

“More than usual,” Jess, Sam’s new wife, grins, while Sam simply scrutinizes him in an annoying little brother way.

“Ha ha. Nothing’s with us, don’t know what you’re all talking about.” He flips patties and chicken breasts, avoiding their eyes and their scrutiny.

“Bullshit.”

“One has somewhere today, Lee.”

Their friend Charlie, another high school drama club alumnus, brings Dean a beer. 

“Now see, here’s a true friend. Thanks, Charles.” He raises it to his lips for a long swallow.

“Sure,” she shrugs. “But don’t give me too much credit. Cas asked me to bring it over. Said to tell you he appreciates your contributions to the team?”

Dean chokes on his drink. She pats him on the back until he stops coughing. Laughter takes over once his airway is clear, and he keeps laughing until he finally gets it out of his system. His eyes search for Cas, who he finds easily, as Cas is already looking his way with a mile-wide smirk on his face. 

“Hey, here’s my end-of-the-year projection, buddy!” he calls, flipping him off. Cas laughs. Dean loves it when he laughs, but he especially loves it when he laughs at something Dean says or does—eyes sparkling, nose scrunching, teeth shining, body shaking in a completely different yet still intimate way…

“Yo, Earth to Dean!” Charlie says, jumping in front of him and waving her arms. “Woohoo, the rest of the world is over here!”

“What, what, I’m not doing anything, I’m right here,” he says, swatting her away. 

“You are _now_ ,” she says, “but for a few seconds there, you were on planet Cas.”

“Come on.”

“No, no, she’s right, brother,” Benny agrees. “Seems like lately that’s who’s got your attention. More than usual, I mean.”

“Pfft, please.”

“It’s true. You’re all gooey,” Jess teases.

“And you’re nutty. All of you are nuts.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced (though neither does anyone else). “Something going on between you two?”

“Seriously? I—”

“Hey!” 

_Saved!_ “Hey, Pam, what’s shakin’?”

“I was gonna ask the same about you. Haven’t seen you at the clubs in a while.”

“I noticed that, too,” Lee says, brows pinching. “Thought I just kept missing you.”

“And _I_ thought maybe you finally found someone to keep you hooked,” Pam smirks.

Five sets of eyebrows raise. _So much for being saved._ “Just busy,” he says.

“Oh, yeah? What’d you do yesterday?”

“Cas and I had lunch and got stuff ready for today.” _After he fucked me in his office._

“Yeah? How about last weekend?”

“Uh, not much. Had a game night. Chilled out at the house. Hung out with Cas.” _Played a Greek god as I fucked around with Cas in a temple I made in my room._

“Oh. And the weekend before that?”

“What is this, Pamela, twenty questions? Shit. Cas and I tried a new place. What, you miss me?”

“Lotta hangin’ around with Cas,” she observes. Most of the others snicker. He doesn’t like their insinuations—not because they’re not true, but...well, it’s complicated.

The man himself cuts through the crowd. “Dean, do you have some food I can put on the table?”

“Nope, but I have some food that the rest of these turkeys can put on the table,” he snarks. He slides the meat onto a couple of platters. “Rolls and condiments need to go out, too. Get to work, all of you.”

With some lighthearted grumbling, they all take on a task, leaving Dean alone with Cas. “Thanks,” Dean says quietly.

“No problem. I could tell you needed a rescue.”

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

Dean smiles and shakes his head. “Yeah, they were just busting my chops. Nothing they haven’t done before.” _And certainly not a subject they haven’t mentioned before._

Cas grins at him. “Give ‘em hell,” he says with one of his awkward winks. He takes a couple of steps backwards, still looking at Dean, before he salutes and turns away. 

Dean watches him go, taking in his loud pink shorts and his kelly green tank and his bare feet. He keeps watching as Cas tries to juggle cherry tomatoes, dropping all of them onto the grass. When he shrugs, picks one off the ground, and pops it into his mouth, Dean can’t help a small, breathy chuckle. He’s dorky and silly and sort of looks like Florida threw up on him, yet he’s still deliciously, ridiculously attractive in ways Dean can’t quite explain. 

Guess that’s what good sex does to people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: power differential (boss and assistant), rimming, anal sex, Dean in panties
> 
> The FPM and extra body part conversations were based on actual conversations at my house. We are strange people. 😂
> 
> The office lingo conversation was inspired in part by a chat with MalMuses, so if you enjoyed it, Mal is part of the reason you got it. I have fun friends. 
> 
> Next chapter: Bad boys, bad boys.


	5. Bad Boys, Bad Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags in the end notes for this chapter. Please check them if you feel you need to!

Dean’s a nurturer, always has been.

It started with Sam and even his father.

Later, it extended to friends.

It even seeped into his work life, when he had those jobs at the residential care facilities before he went on to apprentice and eventually become an elevator installer because he could make good money without going to college; he figured he wouldn’t have to rely on someone else and might even be able to support someone if needed. Not that he thought he’d have someone to support for any reason, but just in case.

He’s always taken care of other people and, frankly, doesn’t take a lot for himself. Sex is what he’s always considered his “selfish” thing, his thing he does just for him. 

Except, of course, that he’s a giving, nurturing partner, too.

So Dean doesn’t truly have the experience of simply taking with no expectation of giving back. It’s against his nature.

Which is, perhaps, why it feels forbidden and just a little freeing.

“So you wanna be the john,” Cas says in response to Dean’s suggestion that they try out the sex worker/john thing. 

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go somewhere, a hotel or something.”

“Why not your car? I could give you a blowjob for fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks? You’re not cheap.”

“I’m worth it, honey.”

Dean snorts at Cas’ joke. “True. I dunno, though. The car is a tight fit. Besides, I might want, you know, something else.”

“Okay, but if you think my blowjobs are expensive...” He trails off with a grin.

Dean shoves his shoulder, partly because he’s being a dick and partly to distract from the weird fluttering he feels about what they’re hinting at. 

“So you’re really gonna pay for a hotel room for a roleplay?”

“Dude, I made togas. When I commit to a role, I commit.”

Now Cas snorts. “Yeah, okay. So, what, we’ll negotiate, we’ll go to a hotel, you’ll fuck me, we’ll part?”

“Yeah.” Dean pauses as acid rises from his belly and makes his chest ache. “Except maybe we can meet back up in the lobby and hang out after, if that’s okay? I didn’t like…” Dean thinks back to after their first encounter as “strangers” and not being able to talk with Cas until the next day. It sucked. It was much better when they talked afterwards, when they hung out, like after the god/mortal and boss/assistant roleplays.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t like that, either. It was, um…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeaaahh. Anyway, so, we’ll meet after and, I dunno, get burgers or something?”

“I’ve been craving a ribeye recently.”

“Then we’ll get that.” Dean nods, then adds, “You know, we could do a whole ‘Pretty Woman’ thing where I take you shopping and shit before we...you know. Doesn’t have to be so, uh, impersonal.”

“That’s sort of the nature of it. Isn’t that the point?”

“Well, yeah, just...yeah, I guess. I just feel bad.”

“For…?”

“For...you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“For...makin’ it about me, I guess.”

“You so rarely make things about you that it’s a delight when you do.”

Dean huffs softly. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It’ll be fun. Don’t be afraid of it, okay? Remember, we can call a time out if we need to.”

They decided after the last roleplay that they needed to have a way to stop the scene. Cas had worried that he’d overstepped when he dragged Dean into the bathroom during the first roleplay and again when he rimmed him during the last one, but that Dean just went with it all because he didn’t feel like he could say no. He hadn’t overstepped at all, either time, and Dean told him so, but they agreed that it was good to have an out, just in case.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m worrying for nothing. It’s us. It’s good. We’re good.”

“We’re good.” Cas smiles. “Better be ready to dish out the big bucks, though.”

* * *

It’s raining on Friday, the day they chose to do their roleplay. It sucks that it’s raining, but it’s supposed to rain all weekend, and they’re both on edge. Or Dean is, anyway, and when he asked Cas if he wanted to postpone until next weekend because of the weather, the response was _hell no_ , so he figures Cas is pretty hard up, too.

It’s almost like a drug, Dean thinks as he gets himself ready to head out. The sex has been _awesome,_ and going without it for too long makes him twitchy. He’s definitely feeling like he’s working out whatever boredom problems he had, because he’s certainly not bored now. He wonders if it’ll last, though, once he’s not roleplaying.

He pushes the thought aside for the moment. Cas says he’s having a blast, and Dean certainly is, so they might as well get all the roleplaying they can while they can. When they go back to fucking other people, they won’t be able to do the roleplay stuff anymore. Or maybe the roleplay stuff can still happen, if Dean actually keeps someone around. Or if Cas does. Maybe, if Cas does, his partner will do this stuff...dress up for him, with him...act out different things, or maybe even some of the things that Dean and Cas have done…

Dean lets go of the wad of bills he just took from his wallet. They’re crumpled from the vise grip he had on them. He smooths them out on the table, then tucks them in his shirt pocket. The furrow between his brows doesn’t smooth out quite so quickly or easily.

As he drives toward the Super 8 Motel where he reserved a room, Dean thinks about what he’ll do with Cas. He hasn’t gotten to rim him yet...but would he do that with a sex worker? Probably not. This is supposed to be about _his_ pleasure. He’d like rimming Cas, though, he’s sure of it. But no, it wouldn’t be right for the role. Maybe next time. He could fuck him like Cas fucked him last Saturday, maybe lean him against the shitty round table that’s in every motel room, or maybe get him on all fours on the bed. Then he could reach around and…ugh, no, he’s supposed to be focused on _himself_. 

With the way the rain is pounding on top of the car, Dean hopes Cas has an umbrella. Maybe he’ll have him take a shower first. It’s not cold outside, but being wet like that might make him chilly, especially with the air conditioning on. They probably should have done this another night. He doesn’t want Cas to get sick. Cas would tell him people don’t get sick just from being wet and cold, but still. 

Dean scans the sidewalks for Cas as he gets closer to the motel. They figured Cas could park at the motel and walk to one of the streets nearby to wait. They didn’t specify which one, though, which makes sense if Dean is supposed to be trolling for a good time. But maybe Cas walks a few of these streets, like it’s his territory. And maybe Dean knows that and only comes to _this_ neighborhood when he needs something, because all he wants is Cas, the dark-haired worker with the soulful blue eyes. Yeah. All he wants is Cas. _Cal_.

He finally spots a man in boots, jeans, and a denim jacket. He’s standing with a hand in his pocket against a cement gray building, looking around. The guy is white-blond, his hair shaggy and fringing his face. Is that Cas? It has to be. He pulls up to the curb, and Cas—Cal—ambles over. Okay, so all he wants is _Cal,_ the _blonde_ worker with the soulful blue eyes. Unless he put in colored contacts, too? 

Cas leans into the window Dean opened. They’re still the same blue they’ve always been. Dean releases a tiny sigh of relief as he licks his lips.

“Hey,” Cas says, low and gravelly and oh-so-sexy. That hasn’t changed, either, and thank fuck for that.

Dean clears his throat and gets into character. “Hey. How are ya?”

Cas shrugs. “It’s raining.”

“Yeah. You look pretty soaked.”

He nods.

“You interested in getting out of the rain?”

“Maybe.”

Dean leers at him, pointedly looking at his crotch and making sure Cas can see the roll of cash in his pocket. “I might have a way to get you warm and dry.”

“I’m listening, handsome.”

Shivers of want course down Dean’s spine. “Get in and I’ll show you.”

“No can do, not until I know what you want from me.”

With another once-over, Dean says, “How much to fuck you?”

“A hundred.”

“A hundred.” He’d pay a hell of a lot more than that, honestly, knowing just how delectable Cas is. He hasn’t fucked him yet, but he knows it’ll be awesome. He takes out his money and peels off five twenties. “These gonna do it?”

Cas plucks the money out of his hand, stands back to tuck the cash in the breast pocket of his jacket, then opens the door. He’s just about to slide in when someone comes to his side. 

Another person comes to Dean’s side.

Cops.

“Oh, shit,” Dean mutters. He rolls down his window. 

“Evening,” the officer says. 

Dread curdles in Dean’s gut. Cas is going to _kill_ him. He has to get them out of this. “H-hey, hi.”

“License and registration, please.”

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear—”

“It never is. License and registration.”

Dean complies as he tries to see what’s happening with Cas, who’s been pulled aside. Another officer is talking with him. He’s getting animated, maybe even telling the cop off, if Dean’s seeing things correctly. _Shit._ He probably doesn’t realize this is real. 

“You know why we’re here, sir?” the officer asks. He looks and acts like he’s fresh out of the academy.

“Yes, but it’s not that, really. If I can just talk to my friend—”

“Your ‘friend’ is being questioned.”

“I—I know, but he’s gonna get himself into trouble—”

“I’ll be right back, and then you can tell me your side of things.” He walks away and gets in the unmarked car a few yards behind him. 

Dean ducks his head to look through the passenger window and yeah, Cas _definitely_ doesn’t know this is real. He probably figures Dean set all this up to add an element of danger to it. _Shit._

He knows the officer wants him to stay put, but he didn’t actually _tell_ him to, so he gets out of the car and approaches Cas and the officer. “Ca—whoa, Jesus!” he shrieks as Officer Fresh Face surprises him by popping up in front of him.

“I didn’t tell you to get out of the car,” the young man says. “Please get back into your car, sir, and don’t approach my partner or the other suspect.”

“Suspect! You didn’t see shit! You can’t prove anything!” Cas yells. 

_Oh God._

“Hey, Mr. Newman, we’re just talkin’, so let’s talk and let’s let them talk,” the other officer, a blonde woman with an air of both down-home charm and unmistakable authority, says as she tries to direct Cas’ attention back to her.

“I don’t know what you thought you saw, but we were just _talking_ , too, and you can’t—”

“Cas!” Dean shouts over Cas’ arguing.

“Mr. Winchester, you really need to step back—”

“Cas! Stop!”

“Mr. Winchester!”

Cas’ head whips toward Dean and the male officer. “Mr. Winchester? Dean?”

“This is real, Cas. They think we’re really…you know.”

The blood drains from Cas’ face. “Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God…” 

“Hey, now, take it easy, don’t faint on me,” the officer with Cas says. 

“You’re real cops? Oh my God.” He bends at the waist, breathing so hard he certainly might make himself pass out. He pulls off his blond wig and the cap underneath.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” Dean says around the bewildered officer in front of him.

“Cas? Thought your name was Cal,” Officer Blonde says to Cas with a tilt of her head.

He shakes his head as Dean answers for him, “No, it’s Cas. Castiel Novak. He didn’t—he thought this was staged. It’s my fault, please—”

“Staged?” she asks skeptically.

“Yeah. We were just pretending, we aren’t really....you know. You can ask our friends Benny Lafitte or Lee Webb, they’re both officers. Please don’t blame Cas for this, he’s the nicest guy and he _never_ would have argued with you or lied about his name if he’d known you were real—”

Fresh Face raises a brow. “Why would you be ‘pretending’ this?”

Dean, completely humiliated, explains their roleplay situation to the two officers. After a minute, Officer Blonde wanders away to their patrol car, while Officer Fresh Face continues taking down their story. A few minutes later, Blonde comes back. “Did you offer money for sex, sir?” she asks Dean flatly.

“Not for real—”

“Mr. Novak, is it?” 

Cas is standing straight again, but still breathing unsteadily. “Yes.”

“Did you accept money in exchange for sex that you intended to provide?”

“Technically…” Cas answers, wincing.

“Sorry, fellas, you gotta come with us.”

They let Dean lock up his car, then shuffle the two into the backseat of their vehicle. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean murmurs, pressing his thigh against his.

“I’m gonna be...oh my God, my name will be in the arrest log, I’ll have to appear in _court_ , fuck...”

“It’ll be okay, Cas, I promise.”

“My job is fucked, no one’s gonna wanna do business with us, my whole family will be humiliated, my father’s gonna _kill_ me…”

“Gabriel will think it’s funny,” Dean says, trying to make Cas smile. 

“Too soon, Dean.”

Dean grimaces. “Sorry. And I’m sorry my fucked-up fantasy ruined your life. This is all my fault. I feel like shit.”

Cas softens and sighs, finally looking at him. “It’s not fucked up, and it’s not your fault. We just should’ve done it somewhere isolated, I guess. Fuck.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

They ride in silence the rest of the way to the police station, leaning against each other.

* * *

Lee is staring at them in the interrogation room, arms crossed and face stern. 

“So, I’m still trying to understand. You’re sayin’ you were pretending to solicit prostitution,” Lee says to Dean. Dean nods.

“And you were pretending to offer sex for money,” he says to Cas. 

Cas nods. He knows this already—Officer Hanscom said she spoke to Lee but had to bring them in anyway, per procedure—but Lee seems to want to explore what to Cas is a simple, straightforward explanation, and he’s pretty sure it’s just to embarrass them.

“Is this a sex thing?”

 _And there it is._ Cas is certain, by the tiny twitch of the corner of his mouth, that Lee is just giving them shit now. He’s not surprised. He thrives on this sort of humor, embarrassing and humiliating people in the guise of ‘I’m just kidding, bro!’ He’s just like every bully Cas dealt with through middle and high school, when being different was somehow a threat.

But hey, if he wants to embarrass people, Cas is willing to play, because if there’s one thing that Lee (and bullies in general) isn’t good at, it’s taking his own medicine. “Yes, Officer, it’s a sex thing. Dean and I have been having sex using roles we create for ourselves. Tonight I was pretending to be the sex worker. And just so you have enough detail for the report you must be preparing since you're asking so many questions, I was going to let Dean fu—”

“What the hell are you guys doin’ here?” Benny asks as he enters the room. “Thought it had to be a joke when Lee texted me. Prostitution? Solicitation? What’s goin’ on?”

Cas turns to Benny, hoping for the best but not expecting much given their shitty night. “As I was explaining, Dean and I have been having roleplaying sex. I was just about to tell Officer Webb that I was going to let Dean fuck me in the ass at the motel around the corner from where we were caught, then I was going to give him his money back and we were going to go to dinner.”

The stunned silence is filled when Benny teases, “I’m mighty sorry I asked.”

Dean snorts, and soon he, Benny, Lee, and the two “arresting” officers (who never actually arrested them) are laughing. Cas doesn’t feel like laughing—he’s unimpressed that he’s been dragged to the station and forced to out their activities simply for Lee’s amusement or curiosity rather than being let go once Officer Hanscom talked with him initially.

“I _knew_ you guys were up to something,” Benny chuckles with a grin as he approaches them. He leans against the table they’re seated at. “How long have you been datin’ behind our backs?”

Cas glances at Dean, who looks as uncomfortable as Cas feels, though probably for different reasons. 

“Uh, we’re, we’re not,” Dean stammers. “It’s just to work some stuff out. Get us out of our rut.”

“‘Work some stuff out,’ Dean?” Lee scoffs in a judgmental tone that pisses Cas off even more. He’s not even doing his job anymore, if he ever was. Dean considers Lee one of his best friends, and Cas puts up with him because of it, but he’s making fun of Dean when he can see Dean is uncomfortable and Cas can’t stand it. He’s not much of a fighter, but he _will_ fight for Dean, and Lee can fuck right off.

“Stop shaming Dean for your amusement,” Cas growls through clenched teeth. “What we’re doing hurts no one. Now are we being arrested or are we free to go?”

The mood is much more subdued after Cas’ verbal slap in the face. “You’re free to go, guys,” Benny says, squeezing Cas’ shoulder.

“Thank you.” He stands and almost reaches out for Dean’s hand, but stops himself at the last moment. _What the fuck am I doing?_ He’s not sure if Dean noticed the aborted move or not. He hopes not. 

* * *

“You were pissed off back there,” Dean says once they’ve climbed out of the police car and back into Baby. “Don’t usually see you so fired up.”

“Yeah.” Cas exhales harshly, his breath fogging the passenger window. “Sorry if I was too hard on Lee.”

“Don't be. He got what was coming to him.” Dean starts the engine. “Thanks for sticking up for us.”

“Of course.”

Dean pulls away from the curb and turns right. The Super 8 looms ahead, just around the corner. Cas points his chin toward it. “You still want to?”

“Um, do you?”

He turns his head toward Dean. He knows he could use the closeness with Dean, even if the scene itself is inherently not emotionally intimate, and he’s pretty certain that after tonight’s events, Dean could use some release. “Yes.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. Okay. Me too.”

He turns to the backseat to grab the wig that Dean locked up in the car for him earlier, but Dean tells him not to bother since they’re practically there. Cas nods, then sits quietly until Dean pulls into a parking space. Then, with a slow smirk, Cas slips into his role. “So you got us a room, handsome? You’re a classy one. I’m gonna like you fucking me.”

Dean runs a finger along his thigh, making him shiver in a way that has nothing to do with his rain-damp jeans. “I’m gonna like fucking you. So, what’s your name?”

A half-hour later, Dean is dick-deep in Cas’ ass, but it doesn’t feel right. He’s trying too hard and not getting anywhere. Cas is playing up his role, doing the dirty talk and moaning loudly, calling him “baby” and arching his back like he’s really into it. He would be into it, probably, if he thought Dean was in the same room and not a million miles away. 

“Time out,” Cas calls, and despite Dean being mid-thrust, he stops immediately. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t,” Dean exhales in a rush, like an admission he was dying to confess to someone. “I can’t...do this to you. To anyone, I can’t just...take and not give, exploit you, I—”

“Okay. Pull out.”

Dean does. Cas pushes himself off the cheap table and turns to face him; he grabs Dean’s shoulders and kneads them. Dean closes his eyes, melting under his touch.

“You’re not exploiting me or anyone, Dean.”

“But I’m pretending to.”

“And that’s all we’re doing. Pretending.”

“But it...it doesn’t feel right. This fantasy.”

“Well, maybe that’s why many fantasies stay fantasies. They feel forbidden or outside ourselves. But like I told Lee, we’re not hurting anyone. We’re just...exploring parts of ourselves in safe ways.”

“Yeah, I know.” He hangs his head low, chin nearly touching his chest.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and it’s fine if you’ve changed your mind. I want you to be comfortable. But I also want you to know that I’m perfectly okay with this. I don’t feel exploited, used, any of it. Okay?”

Dean nods.

“C’mere.” Cas takes his arm and leads him to the bed. They sit quietly side-by-side for a while as Cas thinks of something he can say or do to salvage this. “You can Pretty Woman me, if you want,” he finally offers. “If that would help.”

“Nah. Basically the same thing.”

“Okay. Um…”

He thinks of something that just might work, but it’s...unconventional. And he’s not sure how Dean will feel about it (or hell, how _he_ feels about it). He wants Dean to have this, though, to have the freedom of taking without feeling bad. “This is going to sound weird, but what if...what if we roleplayed a couple who are roleplaying this scene? And I’m your longtime partner who just wants to have some fun with you? You know, like Dan and Cal already have that trusting relationship underneath, they’re just goofing around, spicing up their sex life or something. Maybe Dan got Cal off without coming the night before and now it’s Dan’s turn. Cal already had his turn. Know what I mean?”

“But you won’t really get off, though.”

“I have a hand, Dean. It’s not as if I _can’t._ In fact, maybe Dan and Cal can pretend that Dan’s a longtime ‘client’ who gets off on Cal, as the sex worker, getting himself off.”

Dean’s nod, slow at first, becomes steadier and faster. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah, that’s...good. We’re a couple who’s just roleplaying this and it’s my turn. Yeah. That could work.”

“Okay.” Cas smiles softly at him. “Time out if you need to, okay? But we have our scene down, right?”

“Right.”

And the next time Dean’s deep into his ass, it feels perfect. Cas is egging him on, telling him to _take me, take me_ , and Dean’s totally into it. Cas finds that he feels better about the whole thing, too, and they both get off hard, Cas adding to the stains on the short-pile carpet. 

Dean pulls out carefully, then wraps his arms around his waist. “Thanks, babe. That was fun. I needed that,” he whispers. Cas’ heart leaps into his throat until Dean adds, “I’m glad you got off, too, even if you did get off last night and left me hanging.”

Roleplaying a couple. Right. 

Cas showers, scrubbing his hair extra-hard as if he can scrub out all the thoughts in his brain about how the best part of that entire scene wasn’t the sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: sex worker Cas, client Dean, sex work (in a roleplay), police, embarrassment, Dean struggles with the roleplay even though it's his idea, Dean struggles with letting go, Cas and Dean use their words, common slang about sex work used
> 
> This chapter depicts a roleplay about sex work. Cas and Dean are operating under what they know about the topic. Dean fears he is exploiting Cas, and they talk about that. 
> 
> If you are wondering about the chapter title, it comes from the theme song for the television show "Cops." ;)
> 
> Sooo...now Lee and Benny know! How long before their other friends know, do you think? And uh oh, some feelings beyond sex are starting to happen...
> 
> Next chapter: Watch me. (It's gonna be hot, my lovelies.)


	6. Watch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hot chapter with a hearty side of sweetness and thoughtfulness coming your way!
> 
> You get an extra chapter this week because it’s gonna be a stressful one, fam. Make sure you breathe, drink water, rest, and get away from anxiety-inducing things for a bit. ❤️
> 
> Tags for the chapter at the end if you need them!

Things have been a little...weird. Not bad weird, just...weird.

Neither of them can pinpoint just what it is. Cas tells Dean it’s probably their shared trauma about the whole being stopped by the cops thing and their solidarity after the fallout of that (game night with the guys the following night was nothing but razzing and questions that neither of them would answer, because _of course_ Lee opened his big mouth and told everyone). 

Dean eventually agrees, though Cas isn’t convinced he actually does. Hell, Cas isn’t convinced of it himself.

But sometimes it’s better to believe the lie.

“It should be your turn,” Dean says to Cas over ribeyes that they’re finally getting around to having, their original steak dinner plans foiled by the trip to the police station.

“What do you mean, ‘my turn’?”

Leaning in so as not to be overheard, Dean explains, “I mean, we should do a roleplay that’s focused on you—your pleasure, you getting off.” 

“I had no idea I was complaining about the state of affairs.”

“You aren’t, just...I got mine, you know? I want you to get yours.”

“I did get mine.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You just can’t stand not giving back, huh?”

“No.”

“Of course not.” Cas shakes his head slowly as a fond smile stretches across his face. His friend is a pleaser, a nurturer, no matter how much he wants to deny it. “I don’t know what we’d do, though. There’s nothing I can think of that’s solely focused on me...well, except that one thing, but—”

“What? Is it the ‘personal fantasy’ thing you wouldn’t tell me that I made you put on the list?”

Cursing himself for ever mentioning it, Cas admits, “Yes. The one I told you several times wasn’t suited for roleplay.”

“Why not? Is it perverted or something?”

“No! It’s just...hard to explain. And very...embarrassing and self-centered.”

“Now, see, _I_ think that sounds perfect. Can’t be any more embarrassing and self-centered than some of the stuff we’ve acted out for me.”

“None of that was particularly embarrassing or self-centered, Dean, other than the embarrassment of getting caught by the police. They were perfectly good and a lot of fun.”

“And I think yours could be, too, if you’d just friggin’ tell me what it is.”

Cas shakes his head. Part of him really wants to share this intimate thing with Dean, but his smarter, more dignified, self-preserving parts are screaming at him to keep his mouth shut. 

“Tell you what. You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you what the alpha/omega one is.”

That piques Cas’ interest. Dean had put it on the list but refused to tell him about his sexual fantasy that’s apparently based on stories he’s read. It’s tempting. He bites his lip. 

“Come on, man,” Dean pleads. “You know...stuff. About me.”

_The panties._

“Okay,” Cas sighs, deciding fair is fair and resigning himself to whatever opinions Dean will form. “But if I tell you, you _have_ to tell me the alpha/omega thing. No backing out.”

“Cross my heart.”

“Fine. But let’s wait until we’re done here. We’ll take a walk around your neighborhood.”

* * *

He was nervous to tell Dean about his fantasy, because he didn’t want Dean to think him too weird (or weirder than he already knows he is). But after a walk and a couple of beers, he finally found enough courage to tell him about his idea of being watched, in public, by several people who get off on watching him get off. They want him, Cas explained, but they can’t have him because he refuses, preferring to drive them to orgasm through their sheer want of him and their compulsion to get themselves off accordingly. In their roleplay, Dean would be one of those people.

Cas couldn’t look at him as he spilled his one of his deepest fantasies. He needn’t have worried, though, because Dean found it “totally fucking hot” and he was “right the fuck on board”. 

They decided to go to a sex club in the city, since it was the best way for their roleplay to be as realistic as possible. He almost turned down the idea, but he figured the place was legal, their activities hidden, and if he did see someone there he knew, it’s not like they were innocent, either, so he agreed. He figured maybe his alter ego Cal was more daring than him, too, and besides, he’d have Dean. He wouldn’t dream of doing this with anyone else, so he might as well take advantage of the opportunity while he had it.

“Ready?” Dean asks after they’ve gone through all the screenings and talks required before they enter.

“Yup.”

“Excited?” Dean grins.

Cas turns to him. “Yeah. Nervous as hell, but yeah.”

“Good. I’m excited, too. You get to have your biggest fantasy come true.”

 _Well, maybe not my biggest fantasy_ , he thinks. Dean doesn’t need to know that, though. Cas puts on a smile. “Well, let’s do it.”

They wander around a while, looking into rooms to determine which might be the most amenable to what they’ve set out to do. They find one with three pairs of people and a couple of single people just hanging around, touching themselves or each other. “Here good?” Dean whispers.

Cas nods, starting to feel apprehensive. This isn’t really his scene. Hell, the bars aren’t really his scene, either, but this is a whole other thing.

“Okay, then. Get yourself ready. I’m gonna stand over there for a minute while you work yourself into a good lather, and then I’ll come see you, okay?”

Cas nods again.

“All right. You got this. Fantasy come true.”

Dean ambles to an empty corner and leans against the wall. Cas sits on a settee that looks like it should be in the office of some psychoanalyst. He’s sure a psychoanalyst would have a lot to say about _this_. Nevertheless, he unbuttons his shirt and slips his pants and boxers to his ankles, then lies down, his head against the arm of the settee. He slides one hand across his chest and the other along his shaft, trying to relax and get into it...he’s anything but relaxed, though, and his body knows it. 

He can’t get it up.

_Great._

He should be able to—he knows there are eyes on him, including Dean’s, and he’s rubbing himself the way he likes, but he just feels so _awkward_. He’s not outgoing, cool, or attractive enough to be in a place like this.

He closes his eyes and keeps trying, though, because they’ve gone to all this trouble for _him_ , so he figures he should try to make it work.

Then someone touches him.

It’s just on the leg, but he’s wearing the “no touch” bracelet. It must be Dean, though they’d talked about the roleplay in detail and there was to be no touch. Maybe Dean needs to time out.

He opens his eyes.

It’s not Dean. 

He freezes.

Before he can say anything, Dean’s there, shielding him with his body and growling at the other guy to back off. 

“Is this a jealousy kink?” the guy asks, not looking sorry in the least. 

“No, it’s a consent kink, and he didn’t give you consent. He just wants to be watched, not touched. Look at his bracelet, asshole.”

“Then why do you get to touch him?”

It’s then that both he and Dean notice Dean’s palm flat on Cas’ chest, fingers spread wide. Dean looks horrified. He starts to move his hand away when Cas grabs his wrist.

“He has permission to touch me,” Cas tells the man, finding his voice. “You do not.”

Other people approach and give the guy dirty looks and tell him to get the hell out. He raises his hands in surrender and leaves. One person chases him, yelling at him and telling him he’s about to be reported.

Cas exhales in a rush.

Smiling gently, a person in a mask, corset, and sheer skirt says, “Hi. Sorry that guy was an ass. We’d be happy to just watch if you want.” The others around the person speak up in agreement.

Cas looks at all of them, his eyes resting on Dean briefly before settling on his knees. He doesn’t really want to do this anymore, but he doesn’t want to ruin their night. “I—yeah, um, that would be fine. Good.”

“Hey.” Cas meets Dean’s gentle, understanding eyes. “Do you really want to or do you wanna just bag it and go get a pizza? I’m fine either way, I swear.”

 _Ever the caregiver. Bless Dean Winchester._ “Pizza.”

“Let’s get out of here.” He stands, then pulls Cas to his feet and helps him with his clothes when his hands keep missing the buttons. He didn’t realize they were shaking until now. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Course, man. Nothing to thank me for.” Dean wraps an arm around his shoulders, then turns to the people around them. “Thanks, everyone. We appreciate your support and help. Have a good night. Have fun, be safe and consensual, all that.”

Despite the turn the evening took, Cas chuckles as they walk out of the room. Dean’s lightness and easy understanding make him feel so much better.

* * *

So last night was a bust. Turns out Cas had felt uncomfortable almost from the get-go. Dean felt awful that he didn’t know, but Cas told him he wasn’t a mind-reader and not to worry about it.

He does, though. He always worries about Cas, wants the best for Cas. Until recently, his worries hadn’t extended to Cas’ sexual satisfaction, but now they do, and Dean will be damned if the few times he gets to have sex with Cas are marred by memories of discomfort and regret.

No, Cas deserves to have his fantasy, and Dean is going to give it to him. Tonight.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

Dean bounces on his toes as Cas enters the backyard. 

“What is this?” Cas asks, smiling. 

“Your private little nook. Or the one you _thought_ was private, anyway.” He winks.

A hand to his face (in wonder and, Dean hopes, delight), Cas says, “Dean, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Now, it’s been a long day of fun in the sun, and you’re looking to unwind. So you take a bath in your hotel room to soothe your muscles, then you walk to that little spot you found while you were exploring the grounds. It’s an abandoned cabana, sooo private and peaceful, a perfect place to end your day with a little treat.” Dean hands him a plush white bathrobe he bought earlier. “Bath is waiting. Go.”

Cas shakes his head, taking the robe and giving Dean another one of those fond looks that Dean craves as much as the sex they share. Maybe more. _What? No. This is just hot roleplay sex._

Dean shakes off his brain’s tangents as he ducks into the “abandoned cabana” (a screened pop-up gazebo, because he knew Cas’ fantasy was to be fully exposed outside but one, bugs and two, neighbors). Earlier, he surrounded the gazebo with potted palms and hibiscus, citronella candles, and a small, wireless speaker. Now, he starts the instrumental calypso playlist he made over lunch and lights the candles he put inside the gazebo—mostly citronella, but a coconut candle, too, for a little exotic ambience. When Cas saunters into the yard a while later, looking completely relaxed in his robe and carrying his plastic coconut cup (containing a piña colada) in one hand and a small string bag in another, Dean knows this is going to go well. He hides behind a tree and waits.

Cas makes a show of looking around before slipping into the gazebo. Dean creeps closer so he can be ready to be one of the hotel guests who “just happens to come by on a walk” and finds Cas—Cal, though they probably won’t be trading names—pleasuring himself. 

It doesn’t take long.

Soon Dean hears Cas’ distinctive, smoky hum of arousal. He gives him a few seconds before he picks up the speaker and steps in, zipping the screen behind him. He hopes the noise doesn’t take Cas out of the moment. When Dean turns back, he’s relieved to see that Cas is doing just fine, clearly in his own mind as he lies comfortably on the large beach towel from the bag, nude, hands roaming his own body. 

From Cas’ description, he and several other people are supposed to be super-aroused by Cas...which, hey, not a problem for Dean, certainly. He’s prepared to both fill in the blanks for Cas with some well-placed sound effects and provide some visual stimulation in the form of Dean jerking off as he watches his best friend—no, as he watches a _hot stranger_ —bring himself to orgasm. 

As Cas thumbs at his nipples, Dean subtly turns down the music until it can’t be heard anymore, then trades it for sounds of moaning he culled from several pornos and recorded on his phone. Slowly, he turns the volume up until they’re loud enough for Cas to hear.

Cas gasps.

Watching the way Cas bites his lip as the moaning hits his ears makes Dean’s arousal spike, too. He unzips his shorts and begins stroking himself to full firmness. 

He figures Cas must’ve heard the rustling, because he opens his eyes and levels his intense gaze directly on him. Then the fucker licks his lips and arches into his fist with a moan.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, unable to look away.

Their eyes stay locked for quite a while, until Cas finally closes them when a woman’s voice cries out “Yes!” on the recording. It’s almost as if Cas forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Dean doesn’t want Cas to miss out on fulfilling his fantasy because he’s getting distracted by him, so he takes himself out of his character for a minute and kneels by Cas’ head, deciding to give him “stage directions.”

“This guy by your head on your right, he has his hands full ‘cause the woman with him is so fuckin’ turned on by you right now. She’s not even paying attention to the guy. She’s looking at your face like she wants to sit on it, and the guy’s fingers are all shiny from rubbing her clit and she’s soaked, man, just soaked ‘cause of you.”

Cas grunts and heaves a breath through his nose. Dean grins.

“And the guys next to them, they’re both imagining what it would be like to be with you, wishing they could be with you, but they can’t so they’re doin’ all the things they wanna do with you to each other. One guy’s sucking down the other guy but he’s looking at your cock, staring at it, you can see the lust in his eyes, the want. And the other guy, he’s clutching the guy’s hair and thrusting every time you do, like he’s timing it to you, dying to be in you and knowing he can’t so he’s settling for this guy.”

Cas’ head turns as if he’s looking toward them; he rolls his hips, squeezing his asscheeks hard with every thrust. 

“Oh, they like that, fuck, do they want you, they—”

A loud, deep moan comes from the speaker.

“Shit, he came right in the guy’s mouth while he was watching you, fuck.”

Cas responds with a whimper and several deep pants.

“There’s a woman near your feet who’s getting off by squeezing her nipps and riding a vibrating dildo, a bright pink one with a clit stimulator. She’s so fucking turned on watching you; it’s like she’s cheering for you to come. She keeps pressing her boobs forward like she’s hoping you’ll jizz all over ‘em.”

Dean can tell that Cas is getting close, and Dean is incredibly turned on just knowing that his words, the scene he’s set, will be what pushes Cas over. 

He stretches toward the corner of the gazebo to pull out one more thing he thinks will ensure his friend reaches the top.

“There’s a guy at your left knee who’s fingering himself while jerking off, waiting for you to burst but he can’t, he can’t wait and”—Dean pumps several squirts of Cetaphil, a liquid soap, in his hand and flings it all over Cas’ legs—“oh fuck, he’s coming all over you! He couldn’t help it! He couldn’t stop it!” 

“Fuck,” Cas chokes, shuddering as his hand speeds up.

“And...fuck, the guy who sucked the other one off, he’s fucking him now but loooking at you like _you’re_ the one he’s fucking, and...damn, fuck, he wants you. And the women...one of ‘em is having the time of her fucking life, wants you to come on her so bad and it’s driving her crazy that you won’t, but she’s coming anyway, over and over, and the other one, dude’s drilling her but she’s”—two loud cries erupt from the speaker—“no, they’re _both_ gettin’ off, _begging you_ to join them, and she tells him to pull out and jerk off on you while she watches…” Dean throws more Cetaphil on Cas’ chest as he pants and moans. Dean is _painfully_ hard and would really like to step back in his role, but Cas is getting off so good, loving it—

“What about the guy to my left, near my head? Is he enjoying the show?”

That’s Dean. He gulps, then whispers directly into Cas’ ear, “He thinks you’re incredible, spread out like this, owning your pleasure and giving him the privilege to watch, but he thinks you’d be incredible anywhere, doing anything.”

_Oh no. What the fuck was_ **_that_ ** _? Shit, how do I backtrack—_

Cas’ eyes open and pin Dean in place. “You. Watch me. Come with me. Come _on_ me.”

Dean nods, fully back in actor mode as he strips his cock in time with Cas. Neither of them shift their gaze, even as the tension gets higher and tighter and brighter and—

Cas goes rigid and shouts as his cock explodes, come coating his hand and belly. 

Dean stares in wild want at Cas’ body as he works himself over. He wants his come to mix with Cas’. Badly. And a few seconds later, he aims and hits his target with deep satisfaction and a guttural cry.

Blindly, still drunk from the effects of the most intense jerk-off he’s ever given himself, Dean reaches for his phone and turns it off, silencing the pornographic cries. He gapes at Cas as he catches his breath—beautiful, awesome Cas, lying in repose with a blissed-out smile gracing his face. 

A rush of warmth fills Dean’s entire body. 

He pushes it aside in order to both finish the scene and keep his head on straight.

“Thanks for sharing that with us,” he murmurs, just barely remembering to say _us_ instead of _me_. He reaches out to tuck the soap behind a plant so as not to ruin the scene, then stands to go. A guy who stopped by to watch someone masturbate probably wouldn’t stick around after. A guy who came out to masturbate alone and landed himself an audience didn’t necessarily want the audience to stick around, either. 

Cas stops him at the zippered door with an “Excuse me?”

Dean turns. “Yeah?”

“Um, I don’t know if you’d want to, but I’m all alone here at the hotel and I wondered if you maybe would like to see each other again? Coffee and croissants by the pool, maybe?”

Even though it’s part of the act, Dean’s heart still bounces around like a kid at Christmas. “Love to.” 

“Good. I’m in 147. See you in the morning, mystery man.”

Dean grins and winks before leaving Cas alone. The whole way back to the house, his heart pounds.

 _It’s a roleplay_ , he reminds himself. _A game. And even if it wasn’t, you don’t do that morning-after coffee and croissants shit._

Several minutes later, Cas comes into the house, the string bag he’d given him with lube and a towel in it looking slightly bulkier. “Brought in the speaker. And the soap,” he grins. “And your phone. It was in the grass.”

“Ah, must’ve fallen out of my pocket. Th—”

An armful of Cas cuts him off. “Thank you. That was truly amazing.”

Dean wraps his arms around him, working hard to keep his hands on his back rather than in his hair. “It wasn’t too much?”

Cas leans back but doesn’t leave Dean’s arms. “No, it was perfect.”

“I was an okay director?” he jokes, though what he’s really digging for is some feedback on whether that was too weird. After all, it sort of slipped out of a mutual roleplay for a while there.

“You were a fantastic director. Seriously. You really helped me get into it.” Cas smiles, then takes his arm and leads him to the couch. “And the little extras you did? The music and the candles? The bath and the drink? The _sex sounds_ and the _soap as come_? I mean, just top-notch work. You always invest so much into our roleplays. I really, really appreciate it.”

Appreciation is hard for him to accept sometimes, so he focuses on the way Cas is curled up on the couch, his feet tucked under him and his arm resting along the back. He looks like he belongs here, like it’s his place. His place with Dean, maybe. _As roommates._ **_Roommates_** _._

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles to the tie on Cas’ robe, words a little difficult for his jumbled brain to produce. 

“Was it...okay for you?”

Hearing the nervousness in Cas’ voice draws him out of his own head. “Yeah, it was awesome, are you kidding?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I know it was kind of... _different_ , and it wasn’t, uh, interactive, exactly. It was sort of...well, _really_ singularly-focused, um, by which I mean—”

“Dude, need I remind you that we focused on me last time? And you had a good time, you said.”

“I did.”

“Well, I had a good time, too. A great time, even if it was ‘singularly focused,’ you big dork.” He nudges his hand. “Believe me, huh?”

Cas’ lips turn up shyly as he nods. “I was nervous about sharing this one with you. Thank you for making me feel so...comfortable.”

Something about the phrasing of that hits him square in the chest. “Of course, man.” He licks his parched lips. “Um, so, mac and cheese and some Netflix?”

“I brought the good beer,” Cas teases. “I’ll get into pajamas and help clean up whatever’s left outside, then we’ll get to it?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, thrilled that Cas is staying the night and a little bothered that it won’t be in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: voyeurism roleplay, exhibition roleplay, sex clubs, boundary crossing (swiftly addressed, not between Dean/Cas), masturbation
> 
> My apologies if the depiction of sex clubs did not match any experiences you may have had. I had to make the goings-on work for the story. 
> 
> That soap mentioned in this chapter? It’s real and it does look like ejaculate. 
> 
> Sooo...I did promise a hot chapter. Did it deliver? And whoa, what are those strange things Dean is experiencing? Could they be...feelings?
> 
> Also, all of you who said that Lee would tattle...ding ding ding!
> 
> Next chapter: Bite me.


	7. Bite Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a WEEK, hasn’t it? Phew! ❤️
> 
> If you hadn’t guessed yet, this is an alpha/omega roleplay. A/O isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I know! I’m offering a summary in the end notes along with the tags so that if it really isn’t your bag, you can skip it. However, it is a roleplay, so it might be a different experience for you than typical A/O fics. 😊

The alpha/omega thing is...interesting. 

When Cas asked about it, Dean grew very shy. It was a look Cas rarely saw on his friend. So of course, he had to remind him of their deal and then poke at him repeatedly until he finally confessed. He told Cas the origin of the whole thing and the basics of what would be expected. It didn’t seem so strange—people were a little wilder for each other based on scent, their body parts were a little different, and they went through a period of exceptionally high desire, which is what they’d be acting out. Cas would be the alpha and Dean would be the omega, which Dean emphasized. It was obviously important to him. Cas wasn’t so clear on the difference between the roles, though, besides body parts, nor was he convinced that Dean was being as descriptive as he needed to be in order to make the roleplay work for Dean the way he probably hoped.

So Cas did some of his own research.

Dean was _not_ detailed enough.

But Cas will be detailed enough. Oh yes, he’ll be _very_ detailed. Dean did so much to make Cas’ fantasy come to life, and he’s going to repay the favor.

He tucks the bag he picked up at lunch with his supplies—apple pie filling and flavored lube—into his desk. And since Dean wouldn’t make specific plans for their roleplay tonight (“We’ll just meet at my place and wing it,” which must have been his nerves talking), he sends him a text:

_Cas 12:02pm: Tonight, do a shopping trip at Whole Foods. 6:30. Park in the back of the building and act as if you’re just there to do your usual shopping. When you see me, your heat starts because we are true mates._

_Dean 12:03pm: How do you know about true mates?_

_Cas 12:03pm: Is this acceptable?_

_Dean 12:03pm: Fuck. Yes._

Cas smiles at his phone. This is going to be fun. It’ll be a great way for Dean to take what he wants, what he needs, because he _will_ need it and his faithful alpha will be right there to give it to him, to give him everything. And if Cas gets a little something out of being Dean’s true mate, well, no one else has to know that.

* * *

Dean is so fucking _excited._

As he makes his way to the back of Whole Foods, he wonders what Cas has in store for him. He told him a bit about the alpha/omega thing, but he felt too self-conscious to tell him much. He figured he’d tell him what he needed to know as they went, or they’d just improvise. But Cas has apparently done some reading if he knows about true mates. He shouldn’t be surprised. Cas is a smart guy, a determined guy, a guy who knows just how much Dean put into the last roleplay and would return the favor in spades. He’s a good friend like that...thoughtful, caring, easygoing. The best person he’s ever known, honestly. 

He spots Cas putting groceries into his car and parks next to him. Might as well get this heat started. He grins hard.

Dean climbs out of the car and glances at Cas. Cas glances back. He looks good, wearing one of his work suits. They admire each other with roving eyes. Dean smiles, then passes him to walk toward the store. 

Cas gasps, inhaling sharply, like he’s caught Dean’s scent. “Omega,” he cries softly, only loud enough for Dean. “My omega.”

 _Fuck_. Dean stops suddenly, lifting his head as if he’s caught Cas’ scent, too, then turns. He’s already ridiculously aroused, and they haven’t even done anything yet. “Alpha,” he whispers.

They run to each other and immediately start sniffing one another’s necks. Cas smells _delicious_. He licks Cas’ neck and damn, he _tastes_ delicious, too. “Pie, oh my God,” he murmurs against Cas’ skin. 

“You smell incredible, my omega,” Cas purrs. 

Dean doesn’t smell any different than usual, so he knows Cas is just acting. He feels bad; he should’ve put more thought into this, but he’s been so nervous about it. Cas put thought into it, though, and _damn_ , it’s awesome.

“I can smell you through your blockers. Do you know what that means?”

Dean stills at the blockers comment— _holy shit, he did a_ **_lot_ ** _of research_ —then the full impact of what he said hits him. “True mates. We’re true mates,” he utters, nosing at his ear. It makes him ache, though he’s not sure why. He _knew_ this was coming, yet the way it feels...he didn’t plan for that. “Fuck, alpha, I never thought I’d find you.” 

“Nor I you,” Cas whispers, kissing up Dean’s neck. “This feeling, it’s...it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, I—”

“I know. Oh, alpha, you smell perfect. Shit, alpha, I’m—oh, need you, alpha, need you.”

“You’re going into heat, omega. I can smell your slick.”

 _He knows about slick, too?_ “Jesus,” Dean gasps, clutching Cas’ shirt and pinching some skin between his fingers as he presses his entire body against him.

“I’m going to take care of you.”

“Take me, alpha.”

“I will, dearest, but we must get you some heat supplies first—food, water, beverages with electrolytes, a toy if you would prefer it—”

 _A toy? Is he serious?_ “Don’t you dare give me a toy. You said you would take care of me _._ ”

Cas backs up until they’re looking at each other. “Of course. I just wanted to give you the choice, I didn’t want you to think you had to simply because—”

“I want _you_. You are my alpha. I am your omega.”

With a husky growl, he pulls Dean against him and says, “Mine.”

Dean whimpers. _Fuck_ , that should not sound so good, _holy shit._

“Let’s go get your things, and quickly. I don’t want any other alphas smelling you.”

Dean nods and takes Cas’ hand.

They hurry into the store. Dean notices Cas giving dirty looks to people as they rush up and down the aisles. He keeps him close, protecting him just as any alpha in the stories he’s read would do for their omega who’s in heat. Cas is _never_ possessive, and it’s kind of hot. He stays glued to his side, planting kisses along his neck whenever he can without making too much of a spectacle.

Cas’ hands are shaking when he pulls out his credit card. Clearly he’s affected, too, which thrills Dean. To fluster him even more, Dean surreptitiously cups his ass. Cas shoves the card much too hard into the card reader; Dean stifles a laugh. They collect their bags with a quick “thanks” as they leave the register, no space between them.

“Do you want to go to a hotel or would you rather be someplace familiar to you, my omega?” Cas asks when they get to their cars.

The answer to that is easy. He purrs with a nip to Cas’ lip, “I want your scent to soak my bedsheets and my home.”

Cas’ eyes widen. He nods. 

They part with lingering hands and a promise from Cas to follow him. Dean thinks about Cas the entire way there—whether he’s having fun, whether he’ll get shy or embrace this, if he thinks Dean’s idea is totally out there. Dean, for his part, is loving it. 

Dean is on his neck again the moment they get to his place. He smells and tastes _so good._ Then, getting an idea, Dean backs up with a mischievous smirk. “You wanna chase me, alpha?”

His eyes light up. Oh, _yes_ , he knows about it _and_ he’s into it.

Dean runs off. He expects Cas to follow right away, but he doesn’t. He finally emerges from the house a couple of minutes later. “You made me wait!” Dean calls across the yard.

“My naughty omega took off before I could get the groceries put away,” Cas smirks.

 _Oh, yeah. Whoops._ “Excuses, excuses. I think you were just afraid you couldn’t catch me.”

Cas flashes a predatory smile that’s all kinds of hot as he leaps from the deck onto the grass to give chase. 

They run around the yard, Dean even throwing a few obstacles in his way. From what he’s read, the chase is supposed to be some sort of primal, claiming thing or something. In real life, it’s intoxicating and fun. Dean feels like a kid again, even if the end goal of this chase is very, very adult. Interestingly, though, it does make some primal urge in him sing, too, particularly given the looks Cas keeps giving him, like he’s toying with him, playing with his food before he eats it. 

Damn, he wants Cas to devour him. _Time for this chase to be over_.

Dean runs into the house, Cas on his tail.

Cas catches him just inside the door, slinging his arms around his waist. They stumble their way to the bedroom, kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths all the way. They’ve barely slammed the door closed before Cas is pressing him into it, grinding against him. Dean tilts his pelvis up to meet him. They’re dripping with sweat already and they haven’t even gotten to the bed.

“Need you now, alpha. Hurts,” Dean croaks, pretending he’s at the height of his heat. 

Cas sweeps him into his arms and carries him to the bed, which is... _wow_. Dean silently thanks Cas for all the hours he puts in at the gym. Dean is still hanging onto his shirt when he drops him onto the bed, so Cas drops heavily on top of him. They laugh as their limbs tangle.

“Such a saucy omega I have,” Cas rumbles. 

Dean looks at him with wide eyes. _Does he like my attitude or did I screw up?_

The question must be written on his face, because Cas says “I love it” and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

It pleases him way more than it should. It’s just a roleplay, for fuck’s sake; Cas’ _character_ loves Dean’s _character’s_ sauciness. Still, it feels good to be accepted as he is—no trying to change him, no disapproval. He’s enough. He smiles softly at the thought, and Cas smiles back just as softly, then dips down to kiss him again. 

They slot every part of their bodies together that they can, though it doesn’t feel close enough. Dean wants more, _needs_ more. 

And Cas, once again, knows.

“I want to remove your clothes and kiss every inch of your body, my omega,” Cas purrs next to Dean’s ear. “Will you let me?”

“Please. Anything, alpha. Anything for you.”

“Close your eyes.”

Dean does.

He feels Cas sit up and undress him, then hears him fiddling with something, though he can’t tell what. When he comes back, he smells strongly like apple pie again. He can’t think about it too long, though, because Cas is kissing his hair, his ear, and... _ohhhhhhh_. He clings to Cas, digging his nails into his back to encourage him to _keep going_.

Cas spends a great deal of time on his neck—scenting him, nibbling at it. “Want to bite you,” he murmurs. “Want to mate you, make you all mine.”

“Want that too, alpha,” Dean rasps. Cas is _so good_ at this. 

Sadly, Cas doesn’t stay there. Instead, he forges ahead, making good on his promise to kiss every inch of him. But Dean can’t take it. He’s supposed to be in heat. At his knees (after skating past his cock), Dean grabs his hair, getting his attention. “Alpha, if you don’t fuck me, I’m gonna do it myself. I _need_ you.”

Cas smiles widely. “Of course, my omega. Anything for you. Present for me?”

Dean leaps with a happy yip as he turns over. 

“So eager,” Cas chuckles, smoothing his large hands over the globes of Dean’s ass. Soon, he feels something wet being streaked all over his balls, his hole, his legs. “And so wet for me, omega.” He licks the inside of his thigh. “You taste divine. My perfect mate. Taste yourself.” 

Dean takes Cas’ thumb into his mouth and sucks, tonguing and nipping it. It’s flavored lube. Did he think of _everything_? When Cas tries to pull it back, though, Dean won’t let go. He’s hardly been able to touch him. So Cas lets him have his way—at least until he presses a finger from his free hand into Dean’s hole. 

Dean drops his thumb faster than the ghost pepper he tried once. “Yes, yes, alpha, yes,” he keens, thrusting into it. He whines and grinds even more when Cas adds his tongue and a second finger to the mix, stretching him as he eats him out with noisy gusto. He keeps it up until Dean can’t take another second of not having his cock. 

“Alpha, _please_ ,” he whimpers.

Cas pulls away. Dean peeks at him undressing—he can’t believe what those ill-fitting suits and wacky comfort clothes of his hide—and continues watching as he unrolls a condom down his length and positions himself. “Are you ready, my omega?”

“Been ready. Get that big alpha cock in me.” 

Cas huffs an affectionate chuckle, then eases his way into Dean. 

He takes it slow and easy, which is fine, but Dean was ready to be pounded, like, yesterday. He doesn’t say anything, though. Cas has already done so much while he’s done practically nothing, so if he wants slow and easy, he’ll get slow and easy. 

_Slow and easy_ slows to a stop. “Is this what you need, my omega?”

“Yes, alpha.”

“But?” A warm caress down his back makes him shiver. “Please be honest with me.”

He knows that’s Cas talking, not just his alpha. _Damn, does he know me or what?_ Dean huffs a small, grateful smile that Cas can’t see. “Just, uh, wondering if you could go faster, alpha?”

“Of course, dearest. I told you, I will give you anything.” 

Cas presses a kiss to his spine, which takes any lingering doubt and embarrassment away, then speeds up as he resumes. He dribbles more lube between them, which helps—that and changing his angle just slightly…

“Yes! Yes! There, please!” He grips the covers under his hands, kneading them as his breaths quicken. It feels so good.

It’s even better when Cas wraps his fingers, still wet with “slick,” around his cock. 

“Oh! Alpha!” Dean cries. Cas keeps it up, pumping into him and stripping his cock. Dean’s litany of _oh_ s continues until he cries “Fuck!” and comes all over the bed. Cas cries out, too, thrusting in one final time before he eases them to their sides and holds him close.

Cas is still inside him, almost like they’re knotted, and it’s incredible. He noses the nape of Dean’s neck, leaving tiny kisses intermittently. Dean snuggles into him, covering Cas’ arm with his. They haven't cuddled before, and...well, it’s kind of nice.

“How are you, my perfect omega?” Cas asks, his voice sedate.

“Awesome.”

“Good.” 

After a few minutes, they both begin to squirm, discomfort winning out over any pretend knotting. Cas eases out of him and throws away the condom, then cleans both them and the bed down with wipes from Dean’s nightstand. “I’m going to get us something to eat and drink.”

“Sounds good.” Dean spreads himself out on his belly, avoiding the wet spot. 

He’s back a couple of minutes later. Dean is still feeling drowsy, but hungry, too—it’s what really good sex does to him. He sits up eagerly to see what Cas brought and nearly drools at the meat and cheese platter and bottles of water. 

“This okay?”

“Oh, yeah. One thing you’ll learn about me is how much I like to eat, alpha,” he jokes. 

They eat, then have sex again. When they’re apart once more after another fake knotting that seemed entirely too convincing, Dean grabs onto his arm as he tries to roll away to start a shower for him. 

“My heat won’t be over until tomorrow,” he says nervously. “Will you stay with me?”

This isn’t something they’ve done yet—extending a scene, sharing a bed—and he’s not sure how Cas will feel about it, but Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course. I would never leave my mate during his heat.”

Dean’s hand slips away as his entire body relaxes. “Good.” He tenses right up again with his next thought, though.

He wants a bite. Not something that actually breaks the skin, but a really good, deep bruise. He craves the sensory stimulation of it. Cas had nibbled at his neck, but he hadn’t left any sort of mark, and that primal part of him wants it—not just the stimulation, but the possession.

“Will you...will you claim me? Mate me?” Dean asks, hoping he doesn't have to spell it out.

Again, without hesitation, Cas answers, “If that’s what you want, it would be my greatest pleasure.”

“You’re a charming one, alpha,” Dean grins, relieved.

They shower separately. Then, both clean, full, and sleepy, they snuggle once more under the fresh bedding (because _of course_ Cas changed the sheets). Cas asks him if his fever is up again, but Dean says he’s sated for now. “I’ll likely need you in the night, though,” he adds. He doesn’t know if he’ll actually wake up, but a true heat is supposed to be around the clock, and sex with Cas again? Yes, please.

“I am yours, omega. Any time, any place, always.”

Dean doesn’t answer, but threads his fingers with Cas’, closing his eyes against a sudden sweep of melancholy. Just tired, he assumes.

He wakes a few hours later to use the bathroom. When he returns, he uses the flashlight on his phone to search for a condom, because he’s awake so it’s heat time, baby. He finds the last one and drops the box into the trash can.

It’s then that he notices the condoms Cas threw away. The untied, _empty_ condoms. 

_He faked it? Twice? Why?_

_Too focused on me, probably._

He chokes back his feelings of failure and selfishness.

_Time to fix that._

* * *

Cas wakes to his cock being sucked, which is a fantastic way to wake up. He groans, almost whispering Dean’s name but correcting himself at the last second. “Omega.”

“Alpha.” Dean crawls up his body and sniffs his neck. Cas is glad he thought to streak the pie filling on his neck after his shower. “You smell incredible. Like you’re mine.”

“I am yours.”

“And I am yours.”

Remembering what Dean—or his omega, rather—requested earlier, he rumbles, “Let me make you mine, sweetheart.”

There’s want and some hesitance in Dean’s voice when he says, “You don’t have to, you’ve done so much for me already—” 

Cas knows insecurity when he hears it, and he doesn’t want Dean to feel insecure about his fantasy. “I want to. There’s nothing I want more, dear one. Please allow me.” He turns Dean’s face to his, and when he nods, he captures his lips. 

The effect of two non-orgasms soon has him pinning Dean to the bed to continue kissing and sucking on his skin hungrily, covering every inch he’s yet to claim. Within minutes, he feels like he’s going to burst—but though he knows his dick will be angry with him, it’s more important to be able to give Dean his fantasy, and he knows he can’t “knot” him properly if he comes because he’ll be too soft too fast. So he channels his sexual energy into another outlet—Dean’s neck. He attacks it, laving and sucking on it. Dean claws at his back, his pelvis thrusting up and grazing Cas’ throbbing cock (which isn’t helping his resolve). He’s clearly enjoying himself. But just when Cas is about to bite him, Dean stops him.

“I want you inside me when you mate me. Please. I’m soaking wet for you.”

Cas gets on his knees, grabs the lube, and slips his hand down. “You are,” he purrs as he coats Dean’s hole once more. He fishes for a condom on the nightstand—he thought they had one left—but he doesn’t find it before Dean sits up and grabs his hand. 

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“You will, my perfect mate, I simply—”

“No.” With strength Dean’s never used against him before, he flips their positions, Dean pushing him up against the headboard. “I want to _feel_ you inside me. Please.”

They’re both clean, so that’s not a problem, but there’s still the knotting thing…perhaps with the biting and all the lube, though, he won’t notice if Cas doesn’t come. “Okay, omega. Anything you want.”

“I want this.” Still loose from their previous encounters, he sinks down onto Cas’ cock in one shot, making them both groan. “Fuck, yes.”

Feeling Dean like this—bare, taking what he needs, on top both literally and figuratively—is intoxicating. He watches Dean’s body undulate in the light coming from the phone sitting on the nightstand. Pretending to take some of the slick from his ass (but really taking it from the tube when his eyes are closed), Cas begins stroking Dean’s cock. “Want you to come for me, beautiful,” he murmurs as he begins nosing at his neck. “Going to claim you as you come.”

“Want you to come for me, too, beautiful,” Dean rasps. He makes tiny sounds of pleasure, driving himself toward his finish. Cas tries to think of a variety of things that will stave off his orgasm. As Dean ascends, Cas makes his own fake (and not-so-fake) sounds of pleasure, squeezing his eyes closed and praying Dean will come before he explodes and ruins the scene.

Suddenly, everything stops. Cas blinks his eyes open. “Is something wrong, my perfect omega?”

“No,” Dean assures him with a stroke of his face, a stroke that turns into a firm grasp of his cheeks. “I just wanted to tell you that I want to feel your come in me. I wanna feel it dribble out. I wanna feel it all over my ass and legs. So you had _better_ come, my awesome, incredible, _self-sacrificing_ , perfect alpha.”

_Okay, so he knows about the not coming thing._

“Chase hard, alpha. Make me yours,” Dean whispers. He lies on his back and drags Cas on top of him. 

Cas gets the hint. He drills into Dean, pushing him up the bed as they both call out in stuttered grunts until Dean digs his fingers into Cas’ hair and pulls him to his neck. 

“Mine,” Cas growls. He bites—not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave marks as he sucks a bruise onto the junction between Dean’s neck and shoulder. Dean sobs, wheezing “Yeah, yeah, oh God” as Cas drives into him, keeping his mouth firmly latched to his neck until Dean wails, holding Cas there as he comes on Cas’ cock. Cas doesn’t last after that, thrusting faster and harder until he, too, is coming, crying out in relief in one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

“Damn,” Dean gasps.

“Unh.”

They do the barest of cleaning before they collapse next to each other and fall asleep, Cas not even having time to worry about all of the feelings this roleplay brought up or about waking up in the same bed with his “mate” tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Alpha/Omega (roleplay), references to knotting, slick, scenting, biting, mating, heat, chasing. Bruising due to biting (consensual). 
> 
> Summary of the chapter: The men do a roleplay in which Cas is the alpha and Dean is the omega. Dean is very reluctant to share what he wants and what it’s about, so Cas does research and does everything he can to make the scene meaningful and realistic for Dean. They cuddle for the first time, and they also spend the night together in the same bed, which is the first time the scene has been extended. There is one point where Cas refrains from having orgasms, which Dean discovers. He does have one the third time they have sex, at Dean’s insistence, but this is a piece they’ll discuss again in the next chapter.
> 
> So, how was it for you? Seemed pretty good for Dean. 😏
> 
> How about that episode 15x18? No spoilers, just...wow.
> 
> Next chapter: Revelations.


	8. Roleplay Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! Another Tuesday chapter! 
> 
> I don’t know about you, but I’m still reeling from last week’s episode. And to think we have another big one this week! We have a calm chapter today. No specific tags. Sit back and enjoy some plot development (and the calm before a bit of a squall).

The alpha/omega scene ended after breakfast in bed (provided by his faithful alpha), another pair of orgasms (using just mouths and hands, because Dean was _sore_ ), and a declaration from Dean that his heat was over. He didn’t _want_ to end the scene, truthfully, but it had to end sometime. At that point, Cas said he was going to go to his apartment to pack his things “so I can move in and be with you all the time, my true mate.” Before he left, Cas tucked him into bed, telling him to take a nap “since you must be exhausted from your heat.” Cas texted him right after—he hadn’t even arrived home yet, probably just parked around the corner—and told him he really did think Dean should take a nap, and he was going to take one, too, and he’d come back to his house later for dinner and game night and they could talk then. So he napped, thinking as he drifted off about Cas and everything they shared, how intimate it felt in a way that their other roleplays hadn’t. He wondered if the euphoria would fade away with some sleep.

It didn’t.

Dean tried not to think too hard about what was so different, nor about how badly he wanted to do the scene again. He threw himself into chores and, later, dinner prep, playing classic rock as he cut up the rest of the meat and veggies they bought for Dean’s “heat” to make one hell of a manly salad. He warmed some French bread to go with it and even made his own dressing. He was pretty damn proud of himself for making such a healthy, kickass meal for his man— _friend, his man friend, which is to say his friend who is a man._

Dean rubs the heel of his hand into his forehead. 

Cas arrives at 5:00 with an overnight bag ( _Yes!_ ), beer, and...dinner. 

“I thought you wanted me to make dinner,” Dean says with a small frown. 

“I thought I was bringing dinner. Did you make something?”

“Well, yeah. You said you’d be here for dinner, so I made dinner.”

“Yes, but I assumed you knew that I meant I was bringing it. I wouldn’t just expect you to cook for me.”

“Why not?” It’s not like he hasn’t before.

Cas doesn’t seem to have a good answer. He shrugs. “Just figured you might be tired,” he says softly. “Thought I’d take something off your plate. So to speak.”

Dean’s heart twirls around and around in his chest. Cas is always so damn thoughtful. “Thanks,” he says as he inhales the spicy-sweet scents from the takeout boxes. “Curry?”

“Yeah, but fuck that, you cooked. We’ll eat this tomorrow,” Cas says as he brushes past, his hand briefly alighting on his arm. 

“It’s okay. I just made a salad, and you bought—”

“Shut up. Everyone knows curry’s better the next day anyway.” He sticks his head in the fridge. “Damn, look at that salad!”

“Jeez, I thought only Sam got so excited about salad,” he says, secretly thrilled that Cas is pleased about it and that he didn’t even question whose meal they should eat. “Got bread, too. And figured we could have some vanilla ice cream topped with all those damn berries you made me buy.”

Cas looks over his shoulder and grins. “Look at you, all domestic.”

“Hush your mouth.”

Cas grins wider, and Dean can’t help but grin, too.

“So, the roleplay,” Cas says over dessert after a surprisingly satisfying meal (who knew salad could actually taste good?). “Thoughts? Feedback?”

“What is this, a focus group?”

“Of sorts. Stop evading.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He doesn’t bother arguing—they know each other way too well—but he can’t seem to come up with the words, either.

“Scale of one to ten,” Cas coaxes.

He can’t help but smile when he says, “Nine.”

Dean laughs when Cas pumps his fist into the air, then pats himself on the back. They clink beer bottles, then Cas asks, “Okay, so why not a ten?”

“’Cause I’m sore,” he chuckles. “Definitely not made to do it that much in a short period of time.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry about that. What you _should_ be sorry about is faking your orgasms, you big liar.” It’s the only part of their roleplay that bothers him. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it much, because it hurt when he figured it out, but now that he is, it hurts even more. Why didn’t Cas want to come with him, inside him? He did before, with the boss/assistant thing. Did he disappoint him somehow? Was he too selfish? Or maybe the roleplay was too weird for him and he didn’t want to say anything. 

Dean’s rating is dropping rapidly.

Cas grimaces. “It’s not that I didn’t want to come, because _believe me_ , I did. I just figured the knotting part would work better if I was still hard. I’d last longer, so it would feel more authentic. Just...wanted it to be good for you, the best it could be.” 

And just like that, his rating goes skyrocketing, his joy and relief the fuel that shoots that sucker into the stratosphere. “Thank fuck. Thought it was something about me, something I messed up. Or about the roleplay being too weird.”

“No. _No_. Nothing like that at _all_. Do you know how hard it was not to come with you surrounding me?”

Dean can’t resist. “I dunno, how _hard_ was it?”

“Ha ha, asshole. Fuck, though, when I finally could...” His eyes drift away for a moment. Dean knows the feeling. “Mmm. Anyway, how’s your neck?”

“Sore as fuck and completely awesome. And speaking of necks, what the fuck did you put on your neck?”

“Apple pie filling. I had it in a little container.”

“Fuckin’ genius. I mean, it was all awesome. The scenting, the chase, the whole true mates thing, all the caregiving and everything you said and did...aces, man. You did your research and it showed.”

Cas smiles down at his lap, shy but proud. He’s ridiculously adorable sometimes, and this is one of those times.

“How was it for you?” Dean asks, pushing away the butterflies in his belly.

With the same smile, Cas raises his eyes to Dean’s. “It was great. Just about perfect.”

“Just about?”

“Well, I missed out on some orgasms.” 

Dean laughs along with Cas, though he gets the distinct feeling that what Cas said wasn’t what he was really thinking. Cas obviously doesn’t want to share, though, and he already said it was great, so he doesn’t push. Instead, he says, “I feel bad about that.”

Cas shrugs. “Don’t. I don’t, not really. This was for you, and I had a great time regardless. Sex doesn’t always have to be about my own orgasm. I...I liked helping you make your fantasy come true.”

Dean hadly knows what to do with that sort of gift. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Dean wonders if he should ask how it was for him to sleep together, how it was to wake up together. 

“So, what roleplay should we do next?” he asks instead, chickening out. Cas shrugs and doesn’t say anything, so Dean takes their list out of the drawer of the side table. Their heads nearly touching, they look at the list together.

“Hmm,” Cas hums softly.

“Uhhh...huh.” Nothing’s jumping out at Dean.

“Umm...hmm. Rock star and fan?”

“Meh.”

“Hypnosis? You could hypnotize me and make me do whatever you want.”

“Make you quack like a duck.”

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“Shut up. Uhh...wrestlers?”

“You want me to bodyslam you, Dean?”

Dean chuckles. “I feel like I’d have to be fitter to do that one with you.”

“It was your idea.”

“I know.” 

“Spies? Interrogation?”

“Eh, maybe.”

“Dom/sub?”

Dean rocks his head side-to-side as he purses his lips.

“You were excited about that one at one point.”

“Yeah, I know, just...not feeling it right now. What do you want to do?”

Cas is quiet for a while before he says, “I don’t know.”

The air is heavy. Dean reads the list over and over, trying to choose something, but nothing’s appealing right now, nothing there is what he needs, what he _wants_ —

“Are we done?” Cas says, barely audible.

Dean meets Cas’ eyes, panic churning in his gut. “Do you want to be?”

“No! No, I don’t, I just didn’t know if _you_ —”

“No,” Dean assures him, resting a hand on Cas’ knee, then overthinking it and moving it to his arm. “I—I don’t. You know, maybe we’re just tired. We did a longer roleplay than usual…”

“Yeah, yeah, and maybe we just need some rest and time to think about what we really want.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Their arguments and agreements fade away as they stare at each other.

A knock breaks the trance.

“Right,” Dean says as he stands to open the door, uncertain if he should thank or kill the person on the other side for interrupting the moment.

* * *

Cas knew the topic would come up again, because their friends were nosy and now the women were here, too, putting on extra pressure. Damn Lee for not keeping his mouth shut. 

“So I’m intrigued,” Jess says as she finishes her turn. “This roleplaying stuff...is it really doing it for you? ‘Cause I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if I could get into it. Or really, let’s be honest, I don’t know if Sam could get into it.”

Everyone laughs but Sam, who shoots her one of what Dean likes to call his brother’s “bitchfaces.”

He’s not sure how Dean wants to address this, but since everyone knows, there’s no point in denying it, and they’re only going to bug them until they talk about it. “I mean, we like it,” Cas says, glancing at Dean, who nods heartily. 

“We like it a lot,” Dean adds with a wink, pulling his collar down just enough for everyone to see a bit of the bruise he left. Seeing his mark on Dean stirs up arousal in his groin and...other places.

“Gross,” Sam mutters, but the women lean in to get a closer look. 

“Look at you, all smug,” Benny murmurs out of the side of his mouth to Cas, elbowing him with good humor.

“Maybe,” he mouths back with a smirk.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about their roleplay. How good it felt to fuck Dean, sure, but also how good it felt to hold him, care for him, call him his. The bachelor lifestyle is vastly overrated, he’s been thinking more and more—has always thought, really, but he’s stuck with it for...reasons.

“If you really commit, you’ll do well,” Dean continues. “That’s the key, I think.”

“So, what’s the best one you’ve done?” Andrea asks.

Dean looks at him, silently asking him what, if anything, he should say. Cas shrugs, holding out his hand as if to say _up to you_.

“They’ve gotten better and better every time,” Dean settles on. “But they’re personal, so.”

“Oh, _now_ you have some sort of boundary?” Lee snorts. “We all know about that threesome, Dean. And your ‘weekend of wanton women’.”

“And the guy who walked around in just his boots!” Sam yells in disgust as only a brother can. 

“There’s not one thing you haven’t been willing to share before, man—” 

“To my horror,” Sam interrupts, though he’s clearly teasing.

“Yet I bet you never would have told us about this little arrangement if you hadn’t gotten caught,” Lee finishes.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

“So what makes this so different? Because it’s Cas?”

“Because it’s no one’s business.”

“I’m right, huh?”

“So what?”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“So it’s our business.”

As the tension rises between the friends, Cas notices Dean getting increasingly uncomfortable. It pisses him off, just like it did at the police station. Dean idolizes the guy, but to Cas, Lee’s never treated Dean all that well. He decides to take the heat off his friend. “Lee, if you want the blow-by-blow, I can give it to you. First, I blew him—”

“Forget it,” Lee grumbles. “I don’t want the blow-by-blow.”

“I do!” Andrea says, raising her hand.

“Me too!” Jess shouts. “He does not speak for me!”

Their light-hearted exclamations serve to break the tension as everyone dissolves into laughter.

When everyone has calmed, Bess shares, “Garth and I love to roleplay.”

Surprised gasps echo through the room, but Cas side-eyes Dean and says “Told you they’re kinky” under his breath.

“What do you guys do?” Charlie’s wife, Thea, asks.

“Oh, teacher, doctor, firefighter, that stuff. One where we were wolves.”

Cas turns to see Dean already looking at him, wide-eyed.

“Some bondage.”

Their brows raise simultaneously.

“It’s a fun way to let loose and be someone else for a while,” Garth adds with a smile.

As the couple chats casually about their bedroom activities with their fascinated friends, Cas’ attention drifts. He watches them, sitting close, clearly enjoying each other. They’ve been married for a while now. They even have a little girl, Gertie, and Bess is pregnant again. They seem so vanilla, and yet look at them. They’ve somehow found a way to keep their sex lives interesting. Cas is sure they have their moments, their times when they don’t feel like having sex or they’re too busy or even when the sex is sort of ho-hum. But through all that, they still have each other—to spend time with, to be close to. Cas sighs.

They eventually move on to other topics. A couple of hours later, they’ve forgotten the game and are spread between the kitchen and living room, chatting in small groups. Bess sits by Cas. “You’ve been spacey,” she observes quietly.

“Yeah. Hey, thanks for earlier. You saved our asses.”

“No problem. Thought you might need it.”

“I had no idea everyone would find our sex life so interesting.”

“It’s not just your sex life they find interesting.” 

Cas squints at her.

“I mean, it’s a big part of it, don’t get me wrong,” she chuckles. “But we’re your friends. We’re kind of invested in your happiness.” She nudges him with her shoulder. 

He smiles and leans into her. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“Of course.” She pauses, then continues, “Garth and I are happy to share roleplaying ideas, though. We can have our own little ‘recipe’ swap.”

She winks, clearly being cheeky, and Cas laughs long and hard from deep in his belly. It’s a relief to release the tension he’d been holding since their alpha/omega roleplay. He glances at Dean from across the room; Dean is already looking at him, smiling even though he can’t possibly know why Cas is laughing. His heart pounds like it’s trapped behind bars, screaming to break free. With some difficulty and a little wave, he returns his attention to Bess, who’s grinning at him.

Bess and Garth are newer friends, brought into the fold by Sam, but they’re sweet and mature and easy to talk to, so Cas asks softly, “Can I ask you a question? A very personal question?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too much, but, uh...domestic sex...is it really good?”

“Domestic sex?”

“Yeah. You know, same partner time after time, same positions, same four walls, same thing for the rest of your life?”

Bess looks away for a moment at her husband. “I think it’s pretty great,” she says, turning back to Cas. “Being with the same person doesn’t have to be boring, as I think we revealed tonight.” She giggles, then continues in a more serious tone, “There’s a comfort in being with the same person, a depth to the sex that you don’t get with a stranger, or at least I never did. They just know you so well that you can be yourself. It’s honest. They know just what you like, too, which is a _very_ good thing.”

Cas nods thoughtfully.

“And when you don’t feel like having sex, you still have each other. Most of life is all the in-between, isn’t it? I love the in-between. I love being with my best friend—dancing in the living room, having lunch together every Saturday, having conversations over coffee. All that stuff makes the sex richer to me. I don’t know about you, but I thought the most boring sex I ever had was when I was single and sleeping around. There was nothing to it beyond an orgasm. It’s kind of like fast food—seems like a good idea at the time, but after, you realize it wasn’t all that satisfying and it kinda makes you feel blah. Compare that to eating a really healthy, well-balanced gourmet or homemade meal. Different experience.”

“Yeah. But eating the same meal all the time?”

“Do you ever order the same meal when you dine out?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good and I know I’ll be happy with it.”

“See? Like that. Domesticity doesn’t have to be boring. It’s what you make of it. You just have to work at it. And when you love someone, the work is worth it.” She twists her mouth in thought, eyes sparkling mischievously, then adds, “You could roleplay it. You know, act out some domestic sex, see if it’s as boring as you think.”

Cas shoots her a doubtful look.

“At least put it on your list.”

“I don’t know…”

“I double dog dare you.”

Now Cas snorts. Garth really found his match in her. Never one to step down from a double dog dare, though, he quietly pulls out the list and a pen from the side table. 

“Huh. I didn’t know you had an actual list.” She peers over his shoulder.

“Call it our recipe book,” he jokes, jotting _Vanilla_ at the bottom of the list before tucking it away. 

“Vanilla, huh?”

He shrugs. “Dean will know what I mean. Shit, I’m gonna have to talk to him. I can’t imagine what he’s going to say.”

Bess shakes her head affectionately. “I wouldn’t worry,” she says, then smiles wickedly and leans in close. “Now, that god/mortal thing I saw checked off...how was that?”

He flushes as he peeks at Dean, then back at her. He tilts his head toward her, his folded hands on his temple hiding his face from everyone but her, and murmurs, “You _have_ to try it.”

She shrieks and then they howl with laughter, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. 

“You guys are having too much fun over here,” Dean grins as he extends a beer to him. Cas notices that Garth has brought a drink for Bess, too, smiling and calling her honey as he gives it to her. The simple gesture, so similar to Dean’s yet worlds apart, creates an exquisite ache in Cas’ chest. 

Their fingers brush as Cas takes the beer from Dean. “Thanks,” he says, adding _honey_ silently and finding he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they just need some time to think about what they really want. 🙄
> 
> What do you think about Garth and Bess being into roleplay? And what do you think about Bess’ suggestion? Sounds like Cas is already trying it out in his mind a little, hmm? 
> 
> Next chapter: You’re a work of art.


	9. You're a Work of Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends!
> 
> Many of you seemed to enjoy the chapter on Tuesday (if you didn't realize I released a chapter earlier this week, go read that first!). We'll see where that leads us, hmm? 
> 
> Tags for the chapter in the end notes if you feel you need them!

“So, you wanna pick a roleplay to do tomorrow night?” Dean asks.

It’s Friday evening, a week after their alpha/omega scene. Cas hasn’t seen him since Sunday afternoon after their leftover curry lunch, when he had to leave to pack for a conference. He got back late last night, and the first thing he wanted to do was to come over and see Dean. He didn’t, of course, though he could have—his friend would welcome him anytime. Still, it didn’t feel like something friends—even best friends—did. He made it here today as soon as he got out of work and Dean welcomed him, as he always does. He looks good in his oh-so-fitted t-shirt and jeans, though a little tired.

“Unless you need more time...”

“No, no, I’m good. Sorry. Spacing out. Yes. Let’s pick a roleplay.”

Dean breaks into a smile. “Okay, good. What do you wanna do?”

“Uh, lemme think,” Cas says, his eyes floating to the ceiling, though really, he doesn’t need to think at all because he doesn’t care which one they do—he just wants to be with Dean again as soon as possible. He draws his thumb slowly through the condensation on his water glass as he considers what Dean might like to try. “Dom/sub?”

“Huh?”

Cas looks down just as Dean’s eyes dart to his face and away from whatever he was focused on a second ago. He still looks a little dopey. “You’ve been wanting to try the dom/sub. Do you want to do that?”

“Uh, nah, not in the headspace for it, I don’t think. It’s been a hell of a week, man.”

Cas nods in understanding. Doesn’t he know it. “Same here. And being in that headspace seems important.”

“Yeah.” Dean reaches into the drawer of the side table and pulls out their list. He does a double-take. “Vanilla?”

_Shit._ “I can explain that,” Cas says on a shallow exhale, his mouth twisting into a grimace. 

“Okaaaay,” Dean replies. He doesn’t seem mad, so that’s something. Actually, he seems...nervous? Or maybe he’s projecting his own nervousness onto him.

“Um, Bess and I were talking about the roleplaying stuff, and she said that ‘domestic’ sex is, uh, pretty good, even if the whole thing seems kind of vanilla. Then she dared us to try it.”

“She _dared_ us?”

Cas thumbs the edge of his glass to give his nerves an outlet. “Double dog dared. I had to write it, obviously.”

“Well, yeah, you were double dog dared, you can’t stand down from that.”

He relaxes a bit. “Exactly.”

“Huh.” Dean stares at the page, not saying anything more.

_Okay, now this is awkward._ Cas clears his throat. “Yeah. Anyway, tomorrow’s roleplay. Or Sunday’s. When do you want to—”

“Tomorrow’s good. We have the game, though.”

“Yeah. So it’ll have to be Sun—”

“We could skip the game,” Dean says hurriedly. “I mean, I canceled it the weekend we did the roleplay in my backyard, so what the hell. I’ll see if Sam can have it at his place so it doesn’t have to be canceled altogether. Those guys can live without us. That all right with you?”

“That’s fine by me.”

Dean’s shoulders drop. “Cool. So, uh, maybe something low-key? Since you just got back and all.”

“Yeah. Uh, how about the artist one? Pretty straightforward.”

Dean nods. 

They talk about the scene, debating whether they should be friends or strangers and deciding that they’ll be strangers, which Cas thinks is probably good. Dean will be the model (duh, look at him) and Cas will be the artist (which will be easy but makes him apprehensive). They set the time and location, then Cas heads home, exhausted but looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

On Saturday, Cas goes to Dean’s house to stick a flyer asking for models under the windshield wiper of Dean’s car (they weren’t taking any chances of someone else finding it), then returns home to get everything ready. His roommate, a colleague who asked to stay with him for “a few nights” that became two months and counting, stayed in Atlantic City for an extra day after the conference and won’t be home until late tonight. He’s glad they can do this at his apartment, because it will be less work to make his place look like an art studio.

After all, he has plenty of supplies to do so.

Dean doesn’t know that. Not that he’d be shocked—he did art in high school—but he just...doesn’t want him to know he still draws _cartoons_ along with his more serious endeavors. That fact doesn’t exactly up his “cool” factor, which is already in the toilet.

He takes some time to transform the living room into a studio—he throws dropcloths over the furniture, scatters several of his canvases and clay sculptures on flat surfaces and the floor, tosses his favorite sketchbook with a pencil on the table in front of them, and places a stool in the middle of the room for Dean to sit on. That done, he messes up his hair, then dresses in the splattered jeans and ripped t-shirt he uses when he paints and an orange pair of knock-off Birkenstocks that he bought at the local thrift store for the act (though, honestly, they’re kind of happy and comfortable so maybe they’ll earn a place in his wardrobe). 

A few minutes later, Dean knocks. He puts down his sketchbook and answers.

Dean looks good. But then again, Dean always looks good. “Come on in. Thanks for coming to my studio. I’m Cal.”

Dean meets Cas’ eyes for a long moment before he finally says something. “No problem. I’m Dan.”

Cas nods and offers his hand to shake. Like their eyes, their hands linger.

Once inside, Dean looks around. It’s been a while since he’s been here because of his roommate. Dean always says he wouldn’t mind if he was here, but Cas would prefer not to have them meet. _He_ can barely stand the snarky bastard, why would he do that to _Dean_? 

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Anything to drink?”

“Beer if you have it.”

He hands Dean a craft brew he knows he loves, even if he never buys it for himself. Dean pops the top and takes a long swallow. Cas tries not to stare.

“Well. As I explained, Dan, this will be a nude session.”

Dean swallows again, this time in faux nervousness. “I’ve never posed nude before. What if you don’t like my body?”

_Yeah, right._ “Don’t worry about that. You’re beautiful,” Cas says in his smoothest register. 

Coyly, Dean asks, “Is that your professional opinion or your personal one?”

“Both, but don’t worry, I’ll be completely professional.”

Dean gives him an obvious once-over and licks his lips.

Cas clears his throat, trying to act unbothered. “Please feel free to change in the dressing room.” He points to a corner of the living room that he curtained off with a sheet. “I left a robe for you. If you wish to use the restroom, it’s the third door on the right.”

It takes no time for Dean to change into the cozy bathrobe he bought Cas for the gazebo roleplay they did, a robe Cas adores and wears whenever he can. When he comes out, Cas gestures to the stool. “I’ll be doing a series of sketches,” he explains. “Please disrobe when you’re ready.”

With his eyes pinned to Cas’, Dean drops the robe to the floor.

Cas licks his lips and rubs at his collarbone. “Sit.”

Dean sits on the edge of the stool, thrusting his chest out. It’s almost comical—for all his model good looks, he doesn’t have the know-how or the attitude. He doesn’t correct him, though, letting him sit like that as he uses a blank page to hide what he’s drawing: Dean’s eyes, mouth, and the perfect curve of his ear. After a few minutes, Dean adjusts his position so that he’s fully seated, planting his feet on the lower rung. Cas notices but continues to draw, absorbed in his task. 

“Am I posing the right way for you?” Dean asks.

Cas looks up. “You’re doing beautifully, just like I knew you would.”

Dean shivers. Cas wonders if he’s cold.

After another couple of minutes, Dean adjusts again. This time, he spreads his legs as he raises his arms and laces his fingers behind his head. Cas knows he’s goading him now, so he doodles impassively on the blank page that now hides his more detailed work until he can tell Dean is growing antsy. Frankly, he is too, so he finally asks, “May I examine you more closely, Dan? It would help me draw you more accurately.”

“Sure.”

Cas steps into his space but doesn’t touch him. Instead, he walks around him like he’s examining a Michelangelo. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“Gettin’ what you need?”

Cas bites his lip. _If only._ “I’m committing every muscle, every curve to memory,” he answers, unable to keep the awe from his tone.

“You can feel ‘em, if you want,” Dean says softly. “If it would help your, uh, artistic process.”

“It would help greatly,” Cas murmurs, holding his gaze. “An artist’s greatest tools are his imagination...and his hands.”

Dean takes his hand and kisses his palm—a simple gesture that leaves Cas breathless—then places his hand on his shoulder and waits.

Cas doesn’t move for a long, long time. Rather, he stands there, drawing out the tension, imagining himself stretching it between his hands and wrapping it around Dean like golden ribbons.

Then, he moves.

Slowly, slowly, Cas drags his fingers down Dean’s arm. He does the same with the other, caressing every inch of skin, which bends and surrenders to his touch. With both hands he moves to Dean’s chest, then his legs, one at a time, his concentration focused and precise as he strokes the muscles firmly, testing their give. He offers his feet the same attention, even propping them one at a time on his knee as his knuckles press deeply into his arches. 

Dean moans. 

Cas pulls him to standing, then leads him to a circle of pillows and blankets on the floor. He places him on his stomach, then trails light fingers up his legs to his ass. He cups his large hands around his cheeks, kneading the globes, before moving to his back, where his palms caress circles and his fingers find every knot. 

His thumbs seek the tiny spots on his neck that Dean complains about and massages them until he begins to drool. Dean slurps up what he can and wipes the rest on the blanket below him. 

Cas huffs a quiet chuckle, happy his massage is having such a positive result. His job is so physical, and he rarely, if ever, treats his body with this sort of care...or rather, _Dan_ has a tough job somewhere, or something. He tries to forget his slip as he moves on to his head, smiling at the pleased “Unhh” from Dean— _Dan—_ as he scratches, tugs, and kneads. 

When Cas turns him over, Dean starts to sit up, probably thinking his “artistic processing” is done...but he has one more thing to do. He gently urges him down again, then massages his face. 

“Not so beautiful now,” Dean slurs, the picture of contentment and relaxation.

“Just as beautiful,” Cas assures him. “The features of the face are among the most difficult for artists, so it’s important to understand them intimately.”

“Mmm.” 

“There,” Cas says after another minute. “I’ve studied all your curves...but one.”

Dean opens his eyes when Cas’ hand alights on his hip. Together they look at Dean’s cock, then each other. “Please,” Dean says.

Cas doesn’t waste another minute. He reaches under a pillow, pulls out some lube, and squeezes some onto his hand. “I could study you for hours,” he whispers as he grasps Dean’s cock and begins stroking. Dean’s body is so relaxed that he isn’t hard, but it takes no time for it to swell in Cas’ hand. “I could draw you. I could paint you. I could sculpt you inch by inch from memory alone, placing every cell in the right spot.”

Dean sits up. “Get out of these clothes,” he urges as he sticks his fingers in his shirt and yanks until it tears. 

Cas hurries to comply.

When he’s nude, Dean pulls him into his lap, both of them moaning loudly as the touches become mutual. He coats his hand with lube, then tugs on Cas’ cock with a lust-addled clumsiness. Cas draws their cocks together, urging Dean to move with him as he jerks them off. They watch the shiny red-purple heads disappear and reappear though their fingers; Cas wonders just what colors he’d have to mix to get that precise shade. That thought leaves him as a gorgeous splash of milky white spurts from Dean’s cock and splatters over them. 

Dean, now spent but refusing to let Cas get away without coming, apparently, continues working him over until he spills his paint all over Dean’s belly. 

“Thank you for your...services,” Cas pants after half a minute. 

Dean snorts. “My pleasure. Truly.”

Now comes the part that’s always a little awkward—how to end the roleplay. “I think I have all I need to complete my sketch.”

“Good. I’ll, uh, head out, then.” 

While Dean dresses, Cas mops himself up and throws his jeans back on, along with a different t-shirt from his room since Dean tore his. He plops down onto the couch and flips open his sketchbook just as Dean emerges.

“Wanna see my great art?” Cas grins mischievously, knowing what he drew before lust took over.

Dean grins back. “Yeah, of course I do. Move over.”

Cas does, but not very far, and Dean sits right next to him, their bodies lined up from knees to shoulders. He shows him the page he doodled on.

Dicks. All dicks, drawn with the finesse of a horny teenage boy.

“This is, uh...very, very, uh…”

“Masterful? Full of deep artistic meaning?”

“It certainly says something about the artist’s vision.”

“Well, you are a work of art.”

Dean side-eyes him and Cas falls apart, hissing with laughter. Dean follows suit. Cas loves that they can have sex and then be together like this, completely comfortable and relaxed, no awkwardness between them...until Dean grabs the sketchbook from him and turns the page, probably so he can add some artwork of his own. 

_Shit_.

* * *

Dean stares at the page.

Eyes. An ear. A mouth. All incredibly detailed.

“That was just warm-up stuff, you know, before I got inspired,” Cas mumbles. He tries to grab the pad, but Dean shoulders him away so he can see what else is in it. 

There’s nothing after this page, so he flips to the beginning. Forests. Dragonflies. Lightning storms, landscapes, various shapes. Anime characters. Pages of cartoon panels. Dean’s house. Dean’s _car_ , Baby. Then the crude dicks, and Dean’s features last. 

“Dude,” Dean murmurs. “I didn’t know you still did art. I thought you gave it up after high school or college or something. You stopped talking about it.”

He feels Cas shrug.

“It’s amazing. You’re even better than I remember.” Dean looks at his best friend. “Why didn’t you tell me you still do art?”

“I just doodle sometimes.” 

Cas won’t meet his eyes. It’s unsettling. “Hey. _Hey_ ,” Dean says, tapping him until Cas looks at him. “ _Why_ didn’t you tell me?”

Dropping his eyes as quickly as he raised them, Cas answers, “That was ‘kid’ me. After high school, everyone was doing ‘adult’ stuff. Drinking. Going out. Hooking up. I needed to keep up, act like an adult, fit in.”

“But…” Dean starts. His chest aches and he feels lost. He thought he knew him better than anyone, and yet he didn’t know this. “Why would you hide it from _me_?”

Quietly, Cas answers, “You were making new friends and getting into the adult stuff, too. I was the weird, awkward one—” 

“You weren’t—”

“—and I didn’t want to get left behind.”

“I wouldn’t have left you behind.”

Cas shrugs. 

Dean sighs in frustration and hurt, but he remembers wanting to fit in back then, too. “Okay, fine, so that was then. Why hide it now?”

“You keep making friends. Friends who are more your type than me.”

“More my—Cas, you’re my best friend.”

“You have lots of best friends, Dean.”

“But you’re my _best_ best friend.” Dean’s nose begins to sting and his throat tightens. “And I thought I was yours, too.”

Cas straightens in his seat and finally meets his eyes again. “What? You _are_ my best friend. You’ve always been.”

“Then _why_ didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid to lose you!”

“How could you _ever_ think you would lose me, Cas? Especially over that?”

“Because I’m not like your other friends. They’re cool people who do cool things and I’m just...not cool and I had to—” 

“The fuck do you mean? You’re awesome! All my friends suck compared to you.”

Cas rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You’re the coolest guy I know,” Dean continues. 

“Bitch, please.”

Dean snorts. The phrase is something they say when one of them is being extra ridiculous. Cas doesn’t believe him, clearly, but Dean remains undeterred.

“It’s true. Know why? Because you’re you. You’re easygoing and accepting and, I dunno... _genuine_ , and that’s badass. I like that. And you being you helps me be me, you know? I mean, fuck art, you really wanna talk about some weird shit to be embarrassed about—we did a roleplay about people who are basically animal-human hybrids, and we did it because _I_ read those books and was into it.”

“That’s not weird, Dean. A lot of people like the fantasy genre.”

“Bitch, please.”

Cas wipes his mouth, trying to hide a tiny smile. Dean sees it anyway, and it loosens the painful grip around his heart a little.

“Dude, listen, I _know_ it’s weird, but it’s okay because you just go with the flow and you’re...just there for _me_ , man, just as I am. I can relax when I’m with you, and that’s...that’s a lot. You know, ‘cause of how I grew up and shit. And I appreciate the hell out of you.” 

The small smile widens, just a bit.

Dean feels grateful that Cas seems to understand, yet he still feels bad. His throat tightens again. “I just...I wish you felt like you could be _all_ of you around me. I feel awful.”

“Hey, now, wait a minute. I didn’t say you were to blame. It’s my issue. It was never about my trust or confidence in you,” Cas assures him with a hand on his arm. “It’s about my confidence in _myself_. All the bullying I dealt with all those years...it left its mark, you know?”

Dean forgets sometimes that Cas was bullied—pretty horribly, from what he’s said—for being “the artsy, gay-even-though-I’m-actually-bi weirdo with the bad wardrobe and big brain.” He didn’t know Cas then; Cas said it mostly stopped once they started hanging out regularly.

“Well, those assholes didn’t know shit.”

“There’s a joke in there that I'm dying to make right now.”

Dean smiles but doesn’t bite. “Seriously. You’re not weird—or not weirder than anyone else, anyway. We’re all weird in our own way.”

With a weak shrug, Cas says, “Yeah, well, you know me, Dean. I always feel a little different, a little out of place...except with you. When it’s just us, I don’t.”

“Except you do, ‘cause you hid this.”

Cas’ mouth twists. “Well, we all have our insecurities, I guess. Even in our closest relationships. And even when we should know better.”

Dean sighs, then nods. He gets it. He has a few insecurities of his own. “Well, you don’t have to be insecure with me, okay? I like you just the way you are.”

Cas snorts. “This meaningful moment was brought to you by the letters D and W.”

Dean laughs. Clearly Cas wants to move on, but he thinks his message was received. “We’re a long way from Sesame Street, man,” he says, resting his eyes on Cas.

“That’s for damn sure. All grown up.” His lips curl in amusement.

Dean feels a strange rush race through his body. He clears his throat. Maybe it _is_ time to move on to other topics. But first...

“So dude, as your punishment for not showing me your kickass art over the last few years, I’m taking the awesome picture of Baby you drew.”

“You want it?” 

“Yeah, I want it, are you kidding? That shit’s gonna be framed.”

“Oh.” Cas takes the sketch pad from him and tears the picture of Baby out. “For you,” he says, handing it over with a shy smile that makes Dean’s palms sweat.

“Thanks.”

They stare at each other until Cas says, “Um, you wanna watch TV for a bit? It’s still early. Unless you wanted to go home right away—”

“Hell no. Took the night off from cards to hang out with you. Haven’t seen you all week.”

“Awesome. Uh, I have to uncover the TV,” he laughs.

“I’ll help. And hey.”

“What?”

“I’m glad you still do art.”

“I’m glad you know about it,” he murmurs, his face soft and relaxed. “I still watch cartoons, too, for the record. And do pop-a-wheelies when I ride my bike. And jump in puddles and use character Band-Aids and sometimes wear this one pair of fuzzy footed pajamas that my brother bought me as a joke.”

Dean grins helplessly at Cas’ confessions. “You’re so badass.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Come on, let’s clean up and order food.”

They don’t talk about the roleplay like they usually do, but Dean doesn’t notice that until he’s at home in bed, thinking about their evening. He’d wanted to spend the night, but Cas’ spare bed is now his roommate’s, the couch is too short and kills his back, and he wasn’t going to ask Cas to sleep in his bed—not when he’d had the crazy urge to kiss him outside of their roleplay, after Cas gave him the picture of Baby. He suddenly remembers that they didn’t kiss at all during their roleplay. It bums him out. 

Then he realizes that maybe he didn’t notice the absence of kissing and the roleplay review until now because he was so wrapped up in all the other great stuff that happened. Not the sex, as fun as it was, but the tearing down of a secret between them, the way they sat close together watching TV, the way they ignored the TV just to talk. 

Not sex. Intimacy.

It brings him to a decision.

“So, uh, next roleplay,” Dean says to Cas the following evening as they sit in Dean’s backyard, eating grilled chicken and potato salad (the best salad, in Dean’s opinion). “I was thinking about that vanilla one.”

Cas pauses mid-bite. “You were?”

“Well, Bess double dog dared us. Plus, uh, it would be a good challenge. I mean, if we can make _that_ hot, we can do anything.”

“Right. I don’t want you to think we have to do it just because it’s on there, though. I mean, technically, Bess dared me simply to put it on the list.”

Strangely disappointed, Dean says, “Oh. Uh, okay, well—”

“I mean, we should check with her, though, see if it applied to the bigger picture,” Cas adds quickly. “It might’ve.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe we should. Just to see.” Dean pulls out his phone and texts Bess:

_Dean 6:26pm: So, that double dog dare. Was that just to write the vanilla idea down, or was that to actually do the roleplay?_

It’s a tense two minutes before she responds:

_Bess 6:28pm: I double dog dared him to write it. I TRIPLE dog dare you to actually do it. And do it right. Make it an entire domestic-ass weekend._

Dean chuckles as he shows Cas the message. “We gotta hang out with them more. She’s cool as shit.”

“She is,” Cas smiles. “Well, do we take the dare?”

With a deep, quivering breath, Dean says, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: artist/model roleplay, handjobs, angst, insecurity, references to bullying
> 
> So, I guess there had to be some sort of conflict sometime, but you might not have expected this. What did you think? Cas' insecurity may have seemed a little silly to some, but are insecurities really rational? And well, we all know that vulnerability and speaking one's truth tends to be freeing and draw people closer...it sure seemed to make Dean feel closer. Like "I wanna kiss him" closer.
> 
> It ended on a happy (if nervous) note, though and it seems they're going to get a taste of vanilla after all. They'll get started on that in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, how about that episode? I have lots of hope for a Destiel ending. 💙💚
> 
> See you soon! Like Tuesday, maybe?


	10. Husbands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh, lovelies, I know many of you have been waiting for this domestic roleplay! It’s a big one, so it’s split up. Here’s an introduction for you. 😘
> 
> No particular tags this time around. Enjoy our boys’ excitement!

Of all the roleplays they’ve done, this one makes Cas the most nervous by far. He’s going to be at Dean’s for the entire weekend. As his husband. 

He’s built up a picture of who Dean’s ideal husband would be, the man he’d settle down with. He’s smooth. Personable. Outgoing. Tough. He loves cheap beer and classic cars, but also dresses effortlessly well, a guy who’s equally comfortable uptown or downtown. A man’s man. Basically, everything that Cas is not. 

He can’t change everything about himself, but at least Cal will be a good dresser. 

He leaves work early on Thursday to do a little shopping. For the other roleplays, he managed to choose his clothes on his own, but for this one, the stakes are higher, the role more involved. This is Dean’s _husband._ Well, Dan’s. Whatever. He’s going to need more help than just picking something from the window mannequin or strolling into a thrift store with an image of his character in his mind. He needs _real_ help.

He brings his photos to the mall, walks into the first store that sells men’s clothing, and approaches the salesperson, a young woman wearing a beanie, a shirt that’s falling off her shoulder, and a skirt with leggings. “Help, I’m hopelessly unfashionable,” he says. 

She laughs. “I think we can help with that.”

“I hope so. My”— _best friend I roleplay with who’s going to be my husband but only for a weekend_ —“uh, I mean, I’m trying to look good for...someone.” He pulls out his phone and shows her the pictures he found online. “I thought maybe you could tell me if any of these are good.”

The woman—Ynez, by her name tag—scrolls rapidly back and forth though the pictures he screenshot from a Google search of “fashionable men’s clothes.” “You’re on the right track. Let’s see what we can do for you. Oh,” she says, “he’s cute.”

She’s on a picture of him and Dean. She must have flipped backwards too far through his photos. “Yes.”

“Is he your _someone_? You’re blushing like he is.”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer, which is answer enough, he supposes. 

“Come on,” she laughs. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”

She asks for his sizes, then moves around the store with brutal efficiency. 

“I liked the outfit with the salmon sweatshirt,” Cas tries as Ynez tosses a button-down on the pile he’s carrying.

“That would hide your bod, bud,” she replies. “Ooh, you know what would look great on you? This right here.” She places an off-white gauzy shirt and a pair of tailored shorts in his arms. “And oh! This v-neck and these flat-front pants. Roll ’em up and you will look _amazing._ ”

“Okay…”

“And ooh, yes, these pencil-leg pants. And okay, you need some color…”

_Finally,_ Cas thinks as his eyes rove over all the black, blue, white, and tan. “I liked those green shoes,” he says. 

“Um, those are, um, daring and, uh, interesting.”

“So no.”

“Yeah.” She places a shimmery shirt at the very top of his pile, a sort of red/pink that looks way too fashionable for him. But that’s the point, he supposes. Cal has style. Cas does not.

“Okay, that’s a good start,” she says brightly. 

_Start?_

She assembles the pieces into outfits, then ushers him into the dressing area. He puts the first one on and looks at himself in the mirror. It’s...nice. He looks pretty good. It doesn’t make him feel much, but he looks the part and that’s what matters. 

“Very nice!” a young man standing next to Ynez says when he exits the dressing room. 

“Agreed! What do you think?”

“I look...stylish?”

“He doesn’t like it,” the guy says. “If you don’t love it, you won’t rock it. Go. Next thing.”

Cas goes.

Three outfits later, Cas is beginning to think it’s him, not the clothes. “Can you just tell me what looks good, please? I trust you to tell me.”

“No, no,” the man, who introduced himself as Javier, tsks. “Why buy it if you don’t love it?”

“He’s trying to impress a guy,” Ynez explains. 

“Confidence is the most attractive thing you can wear,” Javier says. “If you feel good in what you’re wearing, your man will be impressed.”

Cas’ mouth twists into a frown.

Javier pulls him aside and asks, “What’s your favorite outfit? How do you decide what to wear?”

He hasn’t thought much about it. “Well, I wear suits to work—”

“Which you could stand to have tailored,” he interjects. “I saw you come in. Suits look good on you, but a well-tailored suit...you’d look fantastic and you’d feel so much better, too.”

Cas shrugs. “I’d rather not wear them at all.”

“So what do you wear when you’re off?”

“Whatever I’m in the mood for, I guess. Comfortable clothes. Stuff that makes me feel happy.”

“So clothes are about feeling for you. Okay. Let’s work with that.”

They talk about his usual clothes, colors he tends to wear, his favorite clothes. They peruse the store again, trading some things out for others, adding a few outfits, throwing in accessories. Nearly two hours later, he’s exhausted and hungry, but he has four outfits that he feels pretty good in. Two are neutral, but he has some interesting accessories, and two are more colorful than he expected he could have, though still understated and stylish. Hopefully they’ll be to Dean’s taste, and if not, maybe he can wear them when they’re done this thing and he has to go back to trolling bars.

He thanks his new fashion advisors and tips them well.

On the way home, he gets a haircut and buys some condoms, then wonders if they’ll even use them.

By Friday night, he’s _really_ anxious. He’s going to be spending the weekend with Dean. It’s not like they’ve never spent the weekend together before, but he’ll be sleeping with him all weekend. Doing chores with him all weekend. Going out with him all weekend. Living the domestic life _all weekend._

He finishes packing his bag and heads to Dean’s. It’s strange not to see him when he goes inside, but they agreed not to see each other until the morning, when they would start their weekend as Cal and Dan Smith. He unpacks his things into Dean’s drawers and closets. He already has a toothbrush there, so he moves his other toiletries into the bedroom and bathroom, then sequesters himself in the extra bedroom for the night. Tomorrow, he’ll meet his husband Dan in the kitchen for coffee, and the roleplay will begin. 

* * *

Dean is full of anticipation this morning. As soon as he steps into the kitchen, he’ll be Dan Smith, husband of Cal Smith. His husband will be in the kitchen, drinking coffee. His husband will rumble “Good morning” to him. His husband will be completely sleepy and kissable...and he can just kiss him. Can’t he?

Not that it matters. The objective is sex.

But still. 

When he came home last night from a late dinner with Lee and Benny (which was more uncomfortable than it should’ve been—thank God Benny was with them), Cas was already there. His shoes were by the door, his deodorant and aftershave were in the bathroom, his underwear was in Dean’s drawer. It had made him shiver in delight. The only downer was that he couldn’t go see Cas. Like a couple the night before their wedding, the spouses-to-be agreed not to see each other. For luck, or something. 

He hears Cas shuffling to the bathroom, then the kitchen. He smells the coffee. He hears pans banging. 

_It’s time._

Dean opens the door. 

Cas— _Cal, his husband_ —is setting the table. Bacon is sizzling on the stove. Mugs are on the counter, waiting to be filled. 

It’s all the domestic shit he’s tried to avoid.

His heart leaps.

“Morning,” Dean says, keeping things light as he feels the scene out. 

“Morning, hon,” Cas says. He tugs Dean into a one-armed hug. “Coffee’s on.”

Never mind leaping—Dean’s heart is doing backflips on a trampoline.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Great, babe.” He takes a chance and kisses Cas’ cheek. “Thanks for getting up and making breakfast.”

“Well, I can’t break our Saturday tradition,” Cas smiles—or beams. Yeah. He’s smiling really big. “Gotta grab the bacon before it burns.” Cas kisses his cheek this time, then pulls away to finish cooking.

Dean pours the coffee, gets some cantaloupe from the fridge, and carries the bacon to the table as Cas scrambles the eggs. Cas plates the eggs and sits, and they smile at each other as they dig in. 

“So, what do you wanna do today, babe?”

“Well, we do need to paint tomorrow,” Cas reminds him. They’d agreed to paint Dean’s sunroom, since it seemed like a logical part of a “domestic-ass weekend”. “So we’ll need to go get the stuff.”

“All right. And grab some groceries.”

“Yes. And can we stop at the farmers’ market?”

“If we must.” Dean rolls his eyes. Cas had insisted it was a “married” sort of thing to do.

“I saw that.”

“You did not.”

“Don’t tell me what I saw.”

Dean sticks his tongue out.

“Eww. Put that back in your mouth.”

“You don’t usually tell me that.”

“If you keep showing me your chewed food, I will.”

“For better or for worse, baby.”

“Sooo...can we get to the ‘better’ part?”

Dean pouts, Cas stands and kisses his hair as he passes, and Dean stares down at his plate, feeling way giddier than he should.

They finish breakfast with their usual camaraderie, then take turns showering. When Dean’s finished, he’s slightly disappointed to find Cas already dressed. He’s definitely not disappointed in _how_ he’s dressed, though. He looks like he just walked out of a some yachting magazine—khakis with the seams rolled, a light, creamy shirt, a pair of leather sandals, and a couple of bright batik-print fabric bracelets. His hair, which is shorter than usual, is gelled into place. He looks incredibly hot—not quite like _Cas_ , but still handsome. 

“Well damn, I’m gonna look like a troll next to you, babe,” Dean says. He can’t believe how easily the endearment rolls off his tongue. 

“That’s impossible, but appreciated all the same,” Cas says. The light blush across his cheeks tells Dean he’s pleased at the compliment. Dean blushes, too, as he realizes that Cas also paid him a compliment. 

They make their way to one of the home improvement stores first. Because they’re a couple (and because he values Cas’ opinion), he asks Cas about paint colors. Soon they’re debating whether the color should complement or contrast the outdoors. They’re still arguing their points when someone approaches.

“Can I help settle a quarrel, gentlemen?” a man about their age asks. He looks like a design school student (or dropout), he talks like a pretentious dick, and his squirrelly eyes are all over Cas. 

“Sure,” Cas says, though Dean wishes he hadn’t. “We’re trying to choose colors for a sunroom.” He shows the guy the color swatches in his hand.

“Well, since it’ll get a lot of light, you could go bold with a darker tone, or if you want to keep it airy, go for a lighter color with some accents of color in your art and furniture.”

That doesn’t answer _anything_ , but Cas nods. “Yeah. I like the idea of white, because you can play it up so easily and the sun will reflect beautifully in it without baking it, but he likes something darker and more masculine.”

“Well, we both know the masculine is in the man, don’t we?” he says, winking— _winking!_ —at Cas.

Cas chuckles, the bastard. 

“So tell me, who has the ultimate decision? Who does the sunroom belong to?”

“It’s _ours_ , because we’re _married_ , so you can stop flirting with my husband now,” Dean answers tightly.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see a ring on it,” the guy has the nerve to say. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, if you liked it, then you should’ve put a ring on it.”

Dean has the height advantage over the beady-eyed, husband-stealing gnome, and he uses it with glee. “Listen, you—”

“Hon, stop, he’s just teasing,” Cas says, grabbing onto his arm. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he sulks.

Cas shoots him an indulgent grin, then says to the man, “Sorry. House projects are just exhausting. We can never agree. But I think it’s my turn to win this time, don’t you, Danny?”

At the nickname of his fake name, Dean turns. Cas flutters his eyes at him and squeezes his arm. 

“Please, Danny? You let me win this one and I’ll let you win something later.” He winks his dorky half-face wink and Dean already knows he’s lost. 

“Not a _boring_ white,” he mutters. 

“Not a boring white,” his sneaky husband _Cal_ agrees with a victorious grin. “And hey, we can do something fun—a couple of bold lines, a graphic on the wall, something like that. What do you think, honey?”

“Yeah, all right, that could be fun.”

“Are you sure? We both have to love it.”

“Whatever you like, sweetheart. I trust your judgment.”

“You’re my best husband, have I told you that?”

“I'm your only husband.”

“So you think.”

Dean laughs and, without thinking, mumbles “Brat” and kisses Cas full on the lips. His belly swoops and twirls at the simple, completely non-sexual peck.

“Well, looks like you got this. I’ll be at the counter when you decide,” Design School Dropout says, walking away hurriedly.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’d better run,” Dean mutters under his breath, squinting as he watches him disappear.

“Come on, hon,” Cas laughs. “Let’s get the stuff we need and get out of here before the steam from your ears makes you whistle like a tea kettle.”

They choose a warm shade of white, deciding to choose accent colors later. They also pick up brushes, a couple of rollers, and a pan. They wait for the paint to be mixed, pay for their items, and pack the car. And all of that time, Dean can’t stop thinking about that encounter. Specifically, about the rings.

“Time out,” Dean calls when they’re buckled into their seats.

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Why don’t we have rings? We’re married.”

“Maybe you didn’t like it enough to put a ring on it.”

Dean scowls at Cas’ teasing. “I _married_ it, I must’ve liked it.”

Cas shrugs. “Just didn’t think of that detail, I guess.”

Of all the details, _that’s_ the one they forgot. That won’t do. “We’re going to get rings,” he grumbles. “We’ll time back in when we have rings on our fingers.”

“And bells on our toes?”

Dean rolls his eyes as Cas laughs. He doesn’t care about the bells, but damn right he’s putting a ring on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to put a ring on it. 😏
> 
> Next chapter: He does. 
> 
> Good luck to everyone watching the finale! I’ll be with you in spirit, holding your hand and squealing. 😂
> 
> If you want to swim in codas before the real finale, feel free to check out mine, [Paradise Is in Our Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593075)!


	11. The Domestic Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two, in which our boys immerse themselves in the domestic. Enjoy the fluff!

The mall is busy, as it’s a Saturday, but Dean knows just where he’s going. 

Or he thought he did.

“Here? Really?” Dean asks, furrowing his brows as Cas leads him into a novelty gift store.

“Rings will be cheap,” he reasons.

Dean can’t argue with that, though he had imagined something at least a _little_ more upscale, from one of the department stores, maybe. 

It takes them a minute to find the jewelry, passing by funny t-shirts, gag gifts, and “muscle massagers” (yeah, right). There are a wealth of pierced jewelry options for every body part, bunches of bracelets, chains with pendants of skulls and roses, and finally, a couple of rows of rings on cardboard backers.

They riffle through them, rejecting some for their designs and others because there aren’t two available. Finally, Dean finds a pair he thinks will work. “These?” 

The rings are burnished silver, with complementary etched designs. They try them on (with the backer still attached), nod at each other, and buy the pair for ten bucks.

That done, Dean takes Cas outside. He looks around until he finds a cluster of trees around a sitting area that’s currently empty. “Time to get married,” he says. He rips off the cardboard hanger and looks at Cas, ready to...he’s not sure what.

“Uh, so how do you wanna do this? We’re kind of creating our characters’ backstory.”

“Well, they clearly married young and broke,” Cas jokes, holding up the receipt before he tosses it and the cardboard in the trash.

“Yeah. Okay, so maybe they did, though. Uh, like maybe they were childhood sweethearts and got married at, what, nineteen?”

“Nineteen works. So they’ve been married for nine years. Unless we’re not using our own ages.”

“Let’s not complicate it. So, nineteen when they got married, married nine years. Anything else?”

“Hmm...seems they got married at a mall?”

Dean shoots Cas an affectionate scowl. “ _No_ , this is a local garden, where they married with only the justice of the peace and a couple of their friends since their parents were against it because they were so young.”

“Aww. And here they are, all these years later, defying the odds.”

“Damn right.” 

Their grins turn softer. 

“So, are we acting this out?” Cas asks. “Or are we just putting the rings on?”

“Well—”

A large group of sixty-something women shuffles in, gabbing loudly and groaning as they “Take a load off, girls!” Dean sighs. It would be easier to just stick the rings on their fingers and call it good. But…

“Come with me.”

He yanks Cas into a narrow but hidden space between the trees and some sort of HVAC system. Then, licking his lips, Dean clears his throat and asks, “So we’re really doin’ this, Cal?”

Gently, Cas smiles. “Yeah, Danny, I think we are.”

Dean takes the ring that Cas seems to prefer. Quietly, so they’re not overheard by the women, he says, “Uh, with this ring, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I take you to be my husband, until death do us part.” He slips the ring on Cas’ finger.

Cas replies with something similar but which sounds better, more like the actual vows probably go. Then they hold hands and lean in, joining their (fake) lives with a kiss that starts sweet and turns saucy, with _lots_ of tongue. It’s probably just how 19-year-old them would’ve kissed. _Nineteen-year-old Dan and Cal_ , Dean corrects himself.

They get funny looks when they round the trees, but Dean couldn’t care less, especially not when Cas keeps holding one of his hands and leads him back to the mall, saying something about wanting to pick up a new shirt.

They go to the men’s section at one of the nicer department stores. Cas thumbs through the racks, probably trying to find something that looks similar to what he already owns. Cas’ clothes are either quirky weekend wear or identical work wear. The rack he’s at now contains neither. Dean would offer to help, but figures he knows what he’s looking for. Besides, his brow is scrunched in concentration and it’s cute. He turns away and peruses the other racks in the men’s department, not focusing on much until he sees the _perfect_ thing for Cas. He grabs it with glee and searches out his “husband.”

“Babe!” he cries when he’s within earshot. “Look! It was the last one!” He presents the tank top to him with a proud flourish.

Cas’ eyes light up briefly, but then he frowns with a hint of disdain. “That’s, uh... interesting.”

Dean looks at the shirt with the busy pattern on it, neon signs announcing _Tokyo, Sushi_ , and _Open 24 Hrs._ , then at Cas. Cas should be creaming himself over this thing. “You don’t like it?”

“Hon, would I _ever_ wear something that _loud_?”

 _You’d be running out of the store with this and wearing it all weekend_ , he wants to say, but then remembers that they’re roleplaying. Cas would love this, but maybe _Cal_ wouldn’t. Dean glances at Cas’ armful of neutral shirts, then thinks about his current outfit and the outfits he hung in Dean’s closet (he couldn’t help but peek at their clothing hanging together). Now _he’s_ frowning. He doesn’t want Cas to be so...not Cas. “Time out.”

“What?”

“You love this shirt, don’t you?”

“I... like it,” he says carefully.

“Bitch, please, you _love_ it. Why aren’t you jumping on this?”

“Cal doesn’t dress like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not who he is.”

“Why not?”

“Because Dan would never be attracted to Cal if he dressed like that.”

“Why _not_?”

“Because _you’re_ not attracted to people who dress like that. They aren’t your type.”

Taken aback, Dean pauses to collect his thoughts. Cas dressed up for him? So he’d be more his “type,” whatever that is? Apparently, Cas thinks he not only has a friend type, but a partner type...and that he is neither. It bothers Dean. “I—I don’t have a type,” he stammers.

“Dean. I’ve seen the people you’ve chosen.”

And it was true that he tended to choose certain people—people who were sort of, well, artificial, if he’s honest. People who were only skin deep. People who were all the same. Uninteresting. Uncomplicated. Unlikely to get into his head and heart. 

“Yeah, well, maybe I have a one-night type,” he admits. “But there’s a difference between a night and a lifetime, you know?”

Cas blinks, but says nothing.

“I just don’t want you thinking you have to be somebody else.”

He can already see the _But_ forming on Cas’ lips— _But I do have to be somebody else, we’re roleplaying_ —and it makes him so uncomfortable that he rushes to fill the space.

“Anyway, uh, maybe this Dan guy isn’t like that. Maybe he likes a different type. You know, like lovable, artsy nerds. Or geek chic. Whatever makes his husband happy, ‘cause when he’s happy, he looks great anyway.”

“Confidence is the most attractive thing you can wear,” Cas murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Cas licks his lips and tilts his head in consideration. “So maybe Cal likes this sort of thing”—he fingers the shirt in Dean’s hands—“and maybe he also likes some nicer clothes sometimes. For his husband. And maybe for himself some, too. You know, just in case he’s in that sort of mood.”

Dean smiles. “I like it.”

Cas smiles back, his blue eyes shining. “Me too. So, time in?”

“Yeah—no, wait. Since we’re talking characters, don’t be the guy who likes cheap beer, okay? You _hate_ cheap beer. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Chuckling, Cas says, “Deal.”

“All right, time in, but back up to when I come see you with the shirt.”

Cas nods, and when Dean presents him with the tank, he has the glowing, excited reaction Dean had hoped for. And when Cas takes the shirt and kisses him sweetly, Dean’s glowy and excited, too.

* * *

“Look, babe! Sea urchin!”

Cas chuckles at Dean’s childlike glee as he practically darts from vendor to vendor at their town's farmers’ market. Turns out these things are way more than just turnips and microgreens. He thinks Dean is officially a convert. 

“Try it,” Dean—or rather, his husband Dan—encourages him. 

He does, and it’s good. Dean adores it, buying a few and adding them to their already bulging shopping bags. “I’m glad we brought the coolers today with everything you’re buying,” Cas comments as he hefts an insulated bag onto his shoulder.

“I have plans for us tonight, babe. Gonna make something awesome.”

Cas grins, his chest filled with affection. Dean loves to cook. And though Dean’s never been a huge fan of veggies, he suspects this will be the impetus for an entirely new appreciation of plant-based foods for him—maybe for both of them. 

“Oh, babe! Look at that!”

Cas follows along helplessly as Dean is drawn to the flavored salts and sugars. He watches fondly as he samples everything from cherrywood salt to mint sugar. When he gets into an extended conversation with the vendor about ways to dress up steak, though, Cas’ attention wanders, and he notices a stand that Dean missed in his excitement. 

“Hon?”

Dean turns sparkling green eyes his way. “Hmm?”

 _God, he’s so happy and beautiful...What was I going to…_ “You missed pie.”

His eyes grow wide. “I missed _pie_?”

“Something called hand pies…” He points to one of the vendors behind them. 

“Shit. Buy this stuff for me, babe.”

Cas and the vendor laugh as he takes off. “First market?” she asks cheerfully as she takes the items from Cas’ hands.

“Yes, but that’s always his reaction to pie.” He pays the woman, compliments her on both her stand and her dreadlocks, then says with a grin, “I’d better catch up before I lose him completely.” 

“Go catch your boy,” she winks.

When he meets Dean, he’s already halfway through a pie the size of his hand. “Goat cheese, onion and peach!” Dean proclaims with his mouth full. “You wouldn’t think it’s good, but it is!”

“You must be the husband,” a grizzled man with wild hair says warmly. He offers Cas a hand pie with cheese, blueberries, and honey. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you. Here. He insisted you’d love this. My wife Colette made it.”

Cas tastes the pie and, indeed, it’s wonderful. Then the part about Dean talking about him hits his brain. He shouldn’t make a big deal of it—it wasn’t even Dean talking about him, it was Dan talking about Cal—but it still feels good. 

“He makes his own honey, honey,” Dean teases, bumping him with his hip. “Pick something out.”

There are so many flavors to choose from. He’s torn between cinnamon, raspberry, and habañero, each so appealing in their own way. But would Cal like honey? Too late for that debate, he supposes, since Dean’s already established that he does. He samples each one and still can’t decide.

“Anything?”

“I’m torn between these three—”

“Great.” Dean gathers the three he was wavering between and says to the man, “We’ll take ’em all. And one of these soaps, and a lip balm ’cause his lips get chapped in the A/C at work.”

“You’re buying too much for me,” Cas says with a huff.

“Nope. Only the essentials, babe.”

“Lip balm is hardly essential.”

“Says you.” Dean plants a soft kiss to his lips. “Nothing’s too much for you, sweetheart.”

Heat rises to his cheeks. “Hon,” Cas admonishes him, his face flushing even more because he just barely kept himself from saying _Dean_. 

They leave Colette & Cain Creations’ stand with the honey, the lip balm, the soap, and a pillar candle that Dean throws in last-minute. Dean takes two of the bags from Cas’ shoulder, then takes his hand. They walk quietly, Dean casting his eyes around the market with a soft smile and Cas not daring to say a word for fear of what might come out. 

* * *

Cas spent his afternoon prepping the sunroom for painting after Dean shooed him out of the kitchen. It was hardly the stuff of fantasy, but the scene before him now is nothing short of his every domestic dream come true.

An intimate backyard setting. Lights and candles, including the gorgeous beeswax candle in the middle of the table. A delicious-looking meal. A delicious-looking man. His husband, no less.

Clearly it’s a fantasy, because there’s no way actual domestic life could be this wonderful. Or perhaps it could, maybe, but Cas wouldn’t be so lucky. 

Good fortune is on his side right now, though. 

“What do you think, babe?” Dean asks, spreading his arms wide.

“Good Lord, what’s the occasion and how many blowjobs do I owe you?”

“The occasion is you’re awesome, and you owe me nothing.” Dean walks over and loops an arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “However, if you’re so inclined, I wouldn’t say no.”

Cas grins and squeezes Dean’s hip. “I bet. Thank you, honey pie.”

He’s not sure in the dimmer light of the gazebo, but he thinks Dean blushes for some reason.

They sit down and Dean explains the meal: an appetizer of sea urchin toast, bison burgers seasoned with smoked cherrywood salt, piled with peppers, onions, and fresh mozzarella cheese; seared summer squash, zucchini, corn, and cherry tomatoes; and homemade kale chips. He looks so damn _excited_ as he tells him everything he did, every ingredient he used. 

“I can’t wait to try it all.”

Dean smiles, then says “Oh!” as he remembers some other recipe that he _almost_ did, then proceeds to tell him all about it. 

After another five minutes, Cas says, “Hon?”

“Huh?”

“Can I eat now, or…”

“Yes. Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, like he always does when he’s nervous or embarrassed. He wonders if a little Dean is bleeding through his performance.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to let me eat,” he teases him gently, reaching across and lightly squeezing his hand (as he imagines a husband would do).

As Cas suspected it would be, the meal is excellent. 

“Just have sex with my food-induced comatose body. Really, do what you want. I’ve already orgasmed anyway,” Cas moans as he slouches in his chair after his last bite. “Holy fuck.”

Dean is beaming so hard that the candles can’t compete. He always loves compliments on his cooking, and Cas is always sure to give them to him. “So, you liked it?” he asks needlessly.

Cas almost says “Bitch, please” on instinct, but stops himself just in time. Instead, he shoots him a _don’t be ridiculous_ side-eye. “It was okay.”

“Ah, well, maybe dessert will bump my review from three stars to four.” 

Dean retreats to the house, shooing Cas away again when he stands to follow. It gives him way too much time to think about how wonderful the day has been (and why). He’s grateful when Dean returns with two thin pieces of apple pie and a modest amount of vanilla ice cream, topped with almonds, candied walnuts, and a drizzle of what appears to be the cinnamon honey. Cas’ mouth waters. 

“Try it,” Dean urges.

Delicately, Cas scoops a bite, managing to get a taste of everything on one spoonful. “Dios mio,” he murmurs. 

Dean laughs. “It’s okay, then?”

He swallows, then waves his spoon around as he asks, “What’s the highest star rating I can give you? For this entire meal experience? The gazebo and the candles and the food and, of course, your company?”

“Uh, five?”

“Then you get ten stars.”

Dean averts his eyes, but his smile is small and pleased. It feels too real, too much like them. But it isn’t. It’s a roleplay.

“Now sit down and eat, baby, because I owe you blowjobs later and I want you to have your dessert before I have mine.”

Dean does, but not before he leans down and kisses Cas soundly, filling his head with the most delicious buzz and doing nothing to remind him that they’re just pretending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the rings that inspired the ones the guys chose: [Cas and Dean’s rings](https://www.hottopic.com/product/silver-guys-ring-set/11136235.html)
> 
> And here is that eye-catching tank Dean found for Cas: [Tokyo shirt](https://m.romwe.com/us/Guys-Letter-Graphic-Tank-Top-p-543934-cat-859.html?url_from=usplasmtop03191220085XL_shc_product_190712m&gclid=Cj0KCQjw6ar4BRDnARIsAITGzlB62Mk7XT16zBIcsB0sSW6z7qdtqAqFpHHYa0Td3XVkl930RSLhNqcaAg3BEALw_wcB&ref=us&rep=dir&ret=mus)
> 
> Well, it seems like our boys are enjoying this vanilla thing, hmm? How about you?
> 
> Next chapter: Boring ol' domestic sex.
> 
> Re: the finale...I love you and the story is ours now. All ours. 💙💚❤️


	12. Boring Ol’ Domestic Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some boring sex. 😂
> 
> It’s pretty boring sex, but there are tags at the end if you need them. ❤️

Dean has never been this wound up about sex. 

Sure, he’s felt the excitement of being with someone new. He’s felt nervous around someone who seemed a little too good for him, no matter what kind of arrogant front Dean puts on. He’s been so heavily aroused that it hurt. A couple of times, he’s even been a little scared. 

But nothing has made him so excited, so nervous, so aroused, and so scared as climbing into bed next to Cas.

Cas, who he’s already had sex with.

Cas, who knows him inside and out.

Cas, who is hot as hell, honestly.

Cas, who’s sitting up in bed reading, wearing glasses and plain blue boxers and terrifying Dean with all the feelings he’s bringing up.

 _He is_ **_Cal_** _,_ Dean reminds himself. _He is Cal, you are Dan, and you’re going to have boring ol’ domestic sex with your husband of nine years. It’ll be good, but it ain’t gonna knock your socks off. No need to get all nutty about this. For fuck’s sake, get your head in the game and seduce your husband._

He has no idea how to even begin.

“Hey,” Dean says in his deepest smoulder, kissing just below his ear.

“Hey,” Cas replies, not even moving his eyes from the page.

Dean frowns. “That was supposed to turn you on.”

“Was it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Oh.” He shrugs and turns the page.

Dean tries again, this time straddling his lap and hovering over his book as he trails kisses under his jaw. 

Cas yawns.

“Am I keeping you up?” Dean says sarcastically.

“You know how reading puts me to sleep.”

“I would think my moves would be the antidote to that.”

“Eh.”

Indignant, Dean sits back and folds his arms. “ _Eh_? I think my moves are better than ‘eh,’ don’t you?”

Cas looks up from his novel. “Well, I mean, I know them all, so, you know. Time to step up your game.”

“Step up my game? Excuse me, but we went to the dumb farmers’ market you wanted to go to, and then I busted my ass making dinner for you, man! I stepped up!”

He shrugs. “Sure, hon, but what have you done for me lately?”

Dean stares at him slack-jawed until Cas bursts into laughter. “You fucking brat!” he cries, ripping the book from his hands and kissing him so hard he yelps.

“My glasses! Wait!”

He backs up only long enough for Cas to toss his glasses aside, then dives in once more, following him down the mattress until they’re lying flat. There, their mirth morphs into a languid contentment as they move against one another, kissing like they have all the time in the world, like it’s their only goal. Hell, maybe it is. Dean knows nothing about domestic sex, but he’s sure it’s not a hedonistic, orgasm-driven endeavor like what he usually engages in. Or maybe it is sometimes, and maybe other times it’s this, which is...really, really good, too.

After a while, Cas’ hand wraps around his cock and starts stroking. Dean, lost for a while in the moment, opens his eyes to find Cas looking straight at him. He can’t turn away, pinned as he is by Cas’ gaze, by his grip, by the way his mouth alights on his and pulls away again and again. He swims in the feeling until he’s drowning, then he takes Cas’ cock in one hand and his face in the other. Impassioned, he crashes into his lips relentlessly, Cas submitting to the deluge until they’re both gasping for air, and all at once Dean’s coming, clinging to Cas, and Cas is tumbling with him. 

They trade harsh breaths for a few moments, then soft kisses, until Dean breaks away to grab a towel and clean them up. 

“Good moves,” Cas says once they’re clean and settled next to each other in the dark.

“I still got it,” Dean says smugly, though he feels anything but smug as he stares blankly ahead. He’s still dazed—but uncertain now, too. They slept together, even cuddled, during the alpha/omega thing, but he was “in heat.” He’s never done _this_ —been with a partner for more than sex. Been with someone he chose to be with day in and day out. Where’s his damn instruction manual? Or, more fittingly, his script?

“You do,” Cas says. He feels him scoot close and kiss his cheek. “Love you, honey pie. Good night,” Cas murmurs before he rolls over.

Dean’s heart thumps in his chest. He’s run from any chance of those words being directed his way by a lover, run from this sort of intimacy as fast as he could...yet he doesn’t feel like running now. Just because it’s roleplay, probably. Where you can explore your deepest fantasies in a safe way.

He finds Cas in the dark and snuggles into his back. “Night, sweetheart. Love you,” he says to Cas— _Cal_ —before drifting to sleep. 

* * *

As Dean wakes, sunlight streaming against his lids, he thinks about the day ahead. Yesterday was incredible. So, so good. But it had to be a fluke. Domesticity can’t be _that_ good. 

Today will prove that. They have a _very_ boring day slated.

Dean peeks at Cas, who’s sitting up in bed, drinking coffee and scrolling on his phone. 

“I have coffee for you.” He gestures to the nightstand next to him.

Okay, maybe domesticity can be a _little_ good. He sits up. “Gimme.”

“Kiss first. That’s the tip for your barista.”

“I got a tip for my barista,” he jokes, but leans forward to plant a kiss on Cas’ mouth, slipping a little tongue in because he feels like it. “You taste like coffee and”—he smacks his lips—“wax.”

“You taste like morning mouth.” He hands him his mug. “The wax is the lip balm. It has a very neutral taste and scent.”

“Nice. You like it?”

“I do. Thank you. You didn't have to buy it, but I appreciate it.”

“Told you, it was essential.” 

They sip their coffees until Cas decides they need breakfast, then they move to the kitchen. They settle for cereal, wanting something quick so they can get to work on the sunroom faster. After breakfast, they dress to paint.

Cas _really_ dresses to paint. He’s wearing one of his new outfits that’s supposed to be casual wear, Dean assumes. 

“Uh, babe? That’s a nice outfit. Maybe you should save it for later?”

“It’s not that nice. It’s my...painting outfit.”

Dean’s eyes float over the coral shorts and fitted navy polo. Painting is starting to look _way_ less appealing. “Yeah, you gotta change before I jump your bones, babe,” he says as casually as he can muster. “Get your ratty clothes.”

“My other clothes are...in the wash.”

 _He didn’t bring anything to paint in. He really wasn’t fooling around with this dressing-to-Dan’s-taste thing._ _Or my taste, I guess._ “Just wear some of mine.”

Cas shrugs and changes right in front of him, which makes sense if they're married. A minute later, he’s wearing a pair of cutoffs and an AC/DC shirt that should’ve gone in the trash years ago. 

He doesn't want to jump his bones any less. In fact, he wants to jump them more, seeing him in his clothing. “All right, let’s go,” he grumbles as he drags his husband along.

Painting is much less boring with Cas. They listen to a classic rock mix as they stir, pour, cut, and roll. Cas listens as he makes up some crazy workplace a la _The Office_ (Dean is Jim Halpert, obviously), and he listens as Cas makes up something about his job as an art director for a movie production company. It’s fitting for him, even more now that he knows he’s still doing art. They break for an early lunch of leftovers from last night and some TV because the paint needs to dry and the cereal wasn’t nearly enough, then they roll the second coat on. By the time they’re done, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. They clean up, then sit in the middle of the room and admire their work.

“I guess white was a good choice,” Dean admits.

“Score one for me,” Cas jokes. “You wanna score, too?”

Dean raises his brows.

“I believe I owe you a blowjob. And we do have to shower.”

He smiles at Cas, who’s doing that hopeless wink he does. Dean realizes he’s just as happy and enjoying himself just as much as yesterday, despite the day being nothing special so far. So maybe, just maybe, yesterday wasn’t a fluke. And maybe, just maybe, domesticity is more than a little good. 

* * *

Cas is naked in a shower with his best friend for the first time. 

Correction: _Cal_ is naked in a shower with his husband, something they’ve done hundreds of times over the years. 

_Stop freaking out._

But Cas is freaking out. 

If it were just the naked-in-a-shower thing, he’d probably be fine. Maybe. But it’s everything. Dean’s fake jealousy at the home store. The endearments. The “wedding.” Dean wanting him to dress more like himself. Shopping. Dinner. Sex. Wearing a ring. The _love you_ that passed from Dean’s lips in that tender way. Any one of those things is enough to overload his circuits. But all of them together...his circuits are going to explode in a hail of sparks if he’s not careful.

This domestic thing wasn’t supposed to be the best thing he’s ever done with someone.

But it is.

“C’mere, babe,” Dean purrs as he drags Cas out of the stream of water. He lathers his hands with the new beeswax soap, then begins to rub it all over his neck, shoulders, and arms. Cas swallows hard. The intimacy of Dean’s hands performing such a mundane, functional act is jamming his circuit board and letting him forget this isn’t real. 

“This soap smells amazing,” Cas murmurs, pretending that _that_ was the only thing on his mind.

“Yeah, it’s awesome. Have to get some more next time.”

Cas grins, grateful for the distraction this provides from his thoughts. “You’re a farmers’ market fan.”

Dean scoffs. “Hardly.”

“An artisanal aficionado.”

“No.”

“A stand stan.”

“A _what_?”

Cas snorts but doesn’t explain. “A gardener groupie.”

“I am not, you brat,” Dean says, voice stern but smirk giving him away. He links his fingers with Cas.’

“Maybe you should sign up for FarmersOnly.com.”

“Excuse you, but I am a happily married man who has no need for dating apps, thank you.”

 _Oops. Right._ “Well, obviously. But if you ever get tired of me, at least you’ll know you have options.”

Dean cups his cheek. “Don’t ever see gettin’ tired of you, sweetheart,” he rumbles softly. 

Feeling the sparks popping in his chest, Cas presses into Dean and kisses him.

The kiss starts hot and only burns hotter as they go, desire consuming them until Cas wrenches himself away. “You’ll always drive me crazy, baby,” he whispers, then drops to his knees. 

And Dean laughs.

Cas blinks water out of his eyes as he looks up. “Not the reaction I expected as I’m about to give you a blowjob.”

“No, sorry, I know,” he says, wiping his face but still grinning. “It’s just that you say that to me a lot. You just usually mean it really differently.”

Cas does often tell Dean that he drives him crazy, usually when Dean is, well, driving him crazy. But is this Dean laughing about it, or Dan? Does Cal tell Dan the same thing? What does he do with this? 

Dean decides for him. “Sorry, I’m okay. Go ahead.”

“Gee, thanks, honey.” Cas wraps his lips around Dean’s cock. It’s heavy and large and fills his mouth delectably...and then he starts thinking about the phrase he used and _he’s_ the one who ends up laughing, Dean’s cock still in his mouth. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Fuh woo,” he mumbles. 

Dean collapses in laughter against the shower wall, falling out of Cas’ mouth.

“See, _this_ is why you drive me crazy.” Cas folds his arms, but his affection is too great to hold back his smile.

“You’re right. You deserve something for your pain and suffering.” And with that, Dean switches their positions, then swallows Cas’ cock.

“Fuck,” Cas gasps as sensation overtakes him. He claws at the wall. 

“Mmmmmm. Mmm. Mmmmmmmmm.”

The sparks in his chest are now racing through his body, little fires erupting in his thighs, his brain, his palms, his balls. Dea— _Dan_ knows just how to drive him crazy in every way possible. Cas tries weakly to get him to stand so he can have a turn, but he just grabs his hips and takes him deeper, deeper, gagging and _still_ holding on, taking it, _urging_ it, until Cas can’t fight it and spills down his throat with a long, echoed cry.

He lowers himself to the tub floor so his legs won’t give out.

A few moments later, he opens his eyes to a gorgeous sight: Dean beside him, jerking himself off, head dropped back. Cas quickly takes Dean’s cock in his mouth once again, loving the feel of it as Dean’s hand continues to move. They work as one until Cas gets greedy. Not knowing if he’ll ever have the chance to do this again, he wants to savor it, wants the full experience, wants _Dean_ to have the full experience, so he pries his hand away and swallows him to the hilt. With tongue and teeth and a hand fondling his balls, he brings him to a vigorous orgasm that fills Cas (and Dean, he hopes) with deep satisfaction. 

“Mmmmmmuuh—ow,” Dean moans, hitting his head on the trip lever of the tub. 

“Don’t do that,” Cas says as he holds out a hand to help him up. 

“That warning would’ve been more helpful ten seconds ago.”

“Sorry, I’m not Nostradamus.”

“Clearly.” Dean takes his hand and they stand together. He pecks his lips. “You wanna order food? I’m too tired to cook.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

They dry off and head to the bedroom together. Cas looks at his options—he doesn’t want to put on the nice clothes, but he doesn’t want to wear just boxers, either. So, as Cal, he does what any spouse might do if they’re so inclined and the clothes fit—he raids his husband’s drawers. “I’m wearing your pants,” he says, pulling Dean’s favorite pair of thin, black lounge pants out.

Dean’s eyes widen, and Cas is wondering if he went too far and Dean is going to call a time out and tell him no. But instead he says, “Damn, I’m fucked.”

“Huh?”

“You look good in your clothes, you look good in my clothes, you look good in no clothes. I wanna jump your bones no matter what, and I can’t get it up that fast anymore.”

Cas smirks. Even if it’s not true, it’s true in their roleplay and it feels nice to hear, to be wanted in a sexual way that has warmth and affection behind it. “Sounds like a you problem,” he says as he slips the pants over his ass.

“Damn, I love it when you get in my pants,” Dean purrs, then cries, “Hey! Wear your new shirt. The Tokyo one I found for you.”

An odd request, given Dean’s opinion of most of his clothes as “dorky,” but his husband Dan likes geek chic, apparently. He shimmies into the tank, then checks out his reflection. “I like it.”

Dean slips his arms around him and presses against his back. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “Me too.” He plants kisses along his neck. It feels much too good.

Cas orders pizza and mozzarella sticks from a place they’ve never ordered from before but calls “their place” for the roleplay. They eat, do a couple of light chores, sit outside for a while with some beer, then end the day with some honey-drizzled pie and Netflix. Dean snuggles up to him as soon as they’re both done eating, and they trade sporadic kisses that taste like tomato sauce, beer, and apples, an odd taste that would turn Cas off if it were anyone else but he’s able to ignore with Dean. 

Eventually they turn back to the movie, but Cas has no idea what’s going on. Soon it doesn’t matter, because Dean is snoring lightly next to him. “Hey,” he says, kissing the top of his head as he jostles his shoulder. “Bedtime.”

Dean follows without a fight. He lets Dean use the bathroom first so he can go right to sleep, but when Cas finishes his turn, Dean is still awake. 

“You were falling asleep out there, hon. Go to sleep,” he says as he slides under the covers and turns off the bedside light. 

“Mmm. ’Kay,” Dean whispers. He’s curious if Dean was wondering the same thing he was: whether they had to have sex again for the roleplay. He’d come to the conclusion that if they were married, they wouldn’t have sex every night, especially if they’re both tired and have to work the next day. All of their married friends say they don’t. Plus they already had sex earlier, so that probably counts, anyway. Dean seems okay with it, so Cas relaxes. 

“Don’t forget your alarm, hon,” Cas reminds him.

“Got it.” Dean tugs him close and kisses his cheek softly. “Night. Love you.”

“Love you,” he whispers back.

Cas begs for sleep to take him under so he’s not left to his thoughts. But sleep doesn’t answer his pleas for a long while.

When he wakes, Dean is already up. He often leaves early, particularly if he has to travel far to get to whatever job he’s doing, so Cas tries not to mourn the loss of one more morning cuddle. The smell of coffee drifts under the door, and while he’s usually eager to retrieve a cup for himself, this morning he’s dreading it. He delays it by taking a shower, grooming, and dressing. Finally, with nothing else to delay him, he heads to the kitchen.

“Looking good, babe,” Dean smiles. 

Cas looks down at his outfit—his suit from Friday, but with one of his new shirts and no tie. “Thanks.”

“Too bad I made breakfast already. I could’ve had you instead.”

“Your loss,” he teases.

They eat and drink quietly, a strange awkwardness settling over them. 

“Well, I gotta run, babe,” Dean says as he stands.

“Me too. The arts wait for no man.”

“A harsh mistress.” Dean grins as he collects their plates and piles them on the counter for later. “Made your lunch, by the way.” He points to a bag near the door.

“Thanks, hon.”

“No problem.”

They brush their teeth together, then leave together. 

As they’re about to part ways toward their own cars, thus ending the roleplay, Cas feels the urge to say something to bring this to a close, something to...well, he’s not sure what. He just knows the end of this feels significant in some way. But there’s no room for excessive sentimentality in this. This day is just one of thousands of days that married couple Dan and Cal have woken up together. It’s one they probably take for granted, knowing they’ll come home to each other thousands more times. “See you later, honey pie,” he says as casually as he can muster, turning away. 

Dean catches his sleeve. Cas turns back to him.

“Have a good day, babe,” he says softly, so softly. 

The kiss that follows is just as soft.

When they finally separate, Dean winks.

Cas winks back. 

Dean grins and chucks him under the chin.

Cas glances at him, puzzled, before turning toward his car.

They get in at the same time.

Wave at the same time. 

Approach the same stop sign. 

But after Dean turns left, Cas turns right, right, right, and right again, until he’s back at Dean’s. 

He goes inside and empties his things from Dean’s closet, his drawers, his bathroom. He packs the honey to take with him. He places the dishes into the dishwasher and tosses all the clothes of Dean’s he wore into the hamper. He texts Dean to let him know that the house is all cleaned up from their roleplay, and that they’ll talk later about how it went. He sends a smiley face.

He does it all while tears slip from his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: masturbation, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, a smidge of the sads
> 
> How are you all doing, my lovelies? It’s been a week...a month..let’s be honest, a year. I hope you are taking extra-good care of yourselves right now. ❤️
> 
> Next chapter: Dom me, baby.


	13. Dom Me, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they finished their vanilla roleplay! Many of you felt sad for Cas. Me too. Let’s see how Dean’s doing and whether these lovable fools will use their words. 
> 
> Note: The roleplay in this chapter is a dom/sub roleplay. They are NOT experts of any sort at this. This is NOT a primer in dom/sub relationships. 
> 
> Some of you may not usually read dom/sub. I have offered both tags and a summary of the chapter in the end notes. (It doesn’t start with the dom/sub, so you might want to read at least the first part.) There are lots of feels as well as sex. *If you have questions before you dive in, feel free to message me on Twitter (@followurenergy) or Tumblr (@followyourenergy). I’m happy to answer any questions you have! ❤️

Some days Dean wishes he didn’t work alone.

But on days like this, he’s grateful.

Because on days like this, he doesn’t think he could bear to have a friendly co-worker ask how he’s doing.

He got Cas’ text earlier this morning, so during his lunch break he swings by the house. As Cas said, it’s back to the way it was. And though they were only there for a few days, the absence of Cas’ things guts him. His home, which usually brings him comfort, feels cold and empty. Sometimes it feels like this when Cas leaves after a weekend spent hanging out together, but not to this degree. 

_It was just a roleplay,_ he scolds himself. _Stop getting all fucked up over it. The sex wasn’t even that spectacular—just handies and blowjobs. It wasn’t a big deal._

Dean shakes his head and swallows hard.

He decides to skip lunch at home and gets a bacon double cheeseburger and a large order of fries from a drive-thru instead. 

All afternoon, he thinks about the weekend, thinks about his empty house, thinks about the empty space in his heart. He’s working on his final job when his phone buzzes:

_Cas 4:42pm: When are you thinking you’ll get home?_

_Never_ , Dean wants to say, not wanting to face the house again, but he knows he’s being stupid and he knows Cas probably wants to talk about the roleplay, maybe plan the next one. 

_Dean 4:42pm: Probably an hour or so. Just got a few things I wanted to wrap up._

_Cas 4:42pm: Okay. No rush. I’m here making dinner._

He makes it home in exactly thirty-seven minutes.

“Hey,” Dean chirps as he walks through the door. Cas looks up from his slicing and grins as he greets him. The light hits his eyes and smile just right and he sparkles. For a moment, Dean’s struck breathless. He coughs to remind his lungs to fill, then wills himself to _move and stop staring, you idiot_. He pats Cas’ shoulder in a very platonic way as he passes to wash his hands at the sink. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks over the running water.

“We gotta eat and we gotta talk. Might as well do both,” Cas says, back turned as he focuses on his task. “You’re earlier than I expected.”

“Yeah. Saved a couple of things for tomorrow.” _Saved everything for tomorrow so I could come home to you._

“There was no rush.”

“I was hungry. What’re we eatin’?” He attempts to peer over Cas’ shoulder, just barely restraining the urge to wrap his arms around him like he did all weekend. 

“We’re eatin’ none-ya,” Cas answers, flicking a towel in Dean’s face so he’ll mind his business. 

But Dean is nothing if not persistent. He ducks under Cas’ arm and grabs a strawberry. 

“Brat,” Cas mutters. “When we do the dom/sub, I’m spanking you every time you’re a brat.”

He bites back a whimper. Spanking is something he’s always wanted to try. “Damn, my ass is gonna be sore.”

“Then you’d better learn to behave.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two of them crack up. Dean feels the hole in his heart fill again. 

Cas serves grilled chicken with jalapeño honey, a tossed salad with something called green goddess dressing, and berries with angel food cake and vanilla ice cream. 

“Jeez, didn’t know you could cook this well, ba—bud.” Dean licks his lips, hoping Cas didn’t notice his slip-up.

“I do okay.”

“You usually order takeout or make pasta, don’t you?”

“Well, just because I _can_ cook doesn’t mean I like it. It’s not as fun alone.”

Dean nods. He has a point. “Coulda cooked for me, though. You’ve been making me do all the work.”

“You’re better at it. And you like it.”

“Disagree about better, but I do like to cook.”

“Bitch, please, we both know you’re better.”

“I’m not.”

“I respectfully disagree. Now shut up.”

“So much for the respectful part.”

Cas winks, his cheeks puffed full of salad. _That stupid wink, damn it._ Dean wipes a sweaty hand on his thigh. 

They eat for a minute or two in contented silence.

“So,” Cas says. “This weekend’s roleplay.”

_Shit._ “Uh, yeah.”

“Thoughts?”

Squirming and knowing he’s being an absolute coward, he answers, “Good. What’d you think?”

Cas blinks, probably at the rapidness of his response. “Uh, I thought it was good. Vanilla sex wasn’t as boring as I expected.”

“Yeah. Uh, me too. Good. Yeah. I mean, it was nothing complicated.”

“No. Maybe we’ll have to be married contortionists next time. That’ll up the complication factor.”

Dean chuckles even as his heart flutters at the combination of _married_ and _next time._ Though they’d agreed not to repeat any, he wouldn’t say no to doing the vanilla roleplay again. 

“So, what’s next?”

_Oh._ Dean thought they’d talk more about it, about what they liked and didn’t like, about the rest of the weekend beyond the sex, but Cas wants to move on. It’s probably for the best, really. Maybe he feels the same weird swirling in his chest that Dean does and doesn’t know what it is or how to deal with it, either. Or maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him at all. Or maybe Dean’s acting like an idiot and making Cas uncomfortable. Whatever it is, best to just flatten any further conversation and plow on.

“Uh, well, we’ve played it safe the last couple of times. You wanna do the dom/sub?”

Cas nods. “Sure. I’ve been researching a bit.” 

Even the thought of Cas researching kinky sex gets Dean hot and bothered. “Yeah?”

“Mmm. I mean, not in-depth, but I think I have the idea. So, do you want to be the dom or the sub?”

Unsure what he wants to ask for—no, _sure_ what he wants to ask for but unsure if he can—Dean answers, “Well, you said you were gonna spank me if I was a brat.”

Cas smirks. “That doesn’t tell me which you want.”

Dean feels his cheeks burn as he tries to indirectly ask by turning it around on Cas. “Sounds like you wanna spank me, that’s all I’m sayin.”

“Sounds like you want me to spank you, that’s all _I’m_ saying.”

_Damn him_. His entire face is rapidly turning to ash, he just knows it. He casts his eyes to the floor.

Cas laughs and pokes him with his foot. “So you’re the sub, then. Good.”

“Shut up.” 

“No, seriously. I’m glad. Not because I get to spank you, but because I think it’s a good role for you.”

Dean looks up, curiosity and a little indignance making him meet Cas’ eyes. He squints. “Why?”

“Oh, don’t get squinty. This has nothing to do with me thinking you’re weak or something.” 

_How the hell did he know I was thinking that?_ **_I_ ** _didn’t even know I was thinking that!_

“The sub is anything but weak,” Cas continues. “He has all the control. Yes, the dom decides this or that, but within rules they’ve agreed on, and the sub can say no to anything and the dom has to stop immediately. He voluntarily gives control of how he’ll receive his pleasure to the dom. That’s not a weak person.” 

Breathing a little easier, Dean asks, “So why is it a good thing for me?”

Cas shrugs. “Because the sub, as I understand it, is cared for by the dom. It’s the dom’s job to make sure the sub’s needs are met.”

“And?”

“And I think you need someone to take care of you.”

Dean frowns. “Why?”

“Because you don’t do it for yourself. Everyone else, yeah, but not you.”

Softening, Dean sits back. “It’s just who I am.”

“I know. And a little who you were forced to be.” Before Dean can sink into the maelstrom of feelings _that_ brings up, Cas continues, “But you need to be taken care of sometimes so you can take care of others, don’t you? Besides, this is roleplay. This is where we try on new things, right?”

Cas is probably right about needing this. Subconsciously, he’s probably known that himself all along. It was the appeal of the alpha/omega roleplay, and of the sex worker/john one that went sideways until they righted it. He likes being cared for, likes knowing he’s not solely responsible for his own care, likes knowing that he can count on someone to offer him what he needs without having to ask. He is solely responsible, of course, and one little roleplay won’t change that, but...it’ll be nice to let go in a safe way, to allow himself something like this. And because he’s supposed to as part of the roleplay, it won’t feel selfish.

“Yeah, okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Dean thinks about giving himself over to Cas, about Cas taking care of him, meeting his every need... 

“Dean, are you okay being the sub? I will if you want, it’s not a problem. I just need to hear you say what you want.”

“Yeah, I’m good with being the sub.”

Smiling, Cas says, “Okay. Let’s figure out how we want to do this.”

* * *

They decided to do the roleplay on Friday so they don’t miss three game nights in a row (it didn’t seem like a big deal to the others, but Lee got pissy when Dean texted everyone they were going to miss again last weekend). Dean wasn’t sure if Cas would want to do one when they just finished the domestic on Monday, but he seemed eager. Dean, too, was eager—eager to get off. With Cas. In their— _his_ —bed. 

He’s still eager as he sits in bed, waiting for Cas. He’s hopeful, too, that this will quell the longing and loneliness that’s plagued him all week.

In tonight’s roleplay, they’re in some sort of dom/sub contract where Cas comes to perform his “services” or whatever. Dean doesn’t really care about the particulars. He just wants to get his hands on Cas again.

He hears Cas and gets to his knees on the floor.

Cas opens the door. “Good boy, waiting for me so obediently,” he rumbles.

Dean feels like he’s going to piss himself with both excitement and nervousness—not nervousness about Cas, because he knows he’ll be great, but about himself and how he plays this (and, if he’s frank, about how much he’ll enjoy this and what that means).

Cas approaches him and they lock eyes.

“Beautiful,” Cas says as he caresses Dean’s face with his knuckles. 

Dean gulps.

“On the bed.”

Dean resists, because honestly, he wants to be spanked.

“Go.”

“I’d rather stay on my knees and let you fuck my mouth, sir.”

“That’s not what I asked you to do. Don’t you want to be my good boy?”

Yes. Yes, he does. But he also wants Cas to rough him up a little. 

“Yes, sir, but your cock feels so good in my mouth.”

He reaches for Cas’ pants. Cas pushes his hands down as he grabs his hair. 

“Get on the bed and strip, or you’ll have to be punished.”

_Hoo boy, that sounds good._ He smirks at him. “Make me.”

Cas tugs him up by the arm, not the hair as he’d hoped. His strength is intoxicating, though, and he wants to feel it again. So he resists as Cas tries to guide him to the bed.

Growling, Cas tugs him close and asks, “What’s your color?”

They had discussed colors as being the easiest way to manage the consent portion of this scene—green for go or yes, yellow for slow down or maybe, red for stop or no. “Green, sir.”

“Then do what you’re told.”

Dean smirks. He’s irritating Cas—or _Cal_ , his dom, he’s not sure which—so he acquiesces.

But only for a minute.

Nearly every move Cas makes, Dean resists, goading him to make good on his promise to punish him for his bratty behavior. 

“All right, enough,” Cas huffs. “You’re being a bad boy. Roll over.”

Dean does, excitedly getting on his hands and knees and preparing himself for the sensation he’s wanted but hasn’t trusted anyone else to give him.

But it doesn’t come.

“Time out,” Cas whispers.

* * *

Cas feels like an asshole for interrupting the roleplay, but he can’t do it.

Dean turns around and sits up. “What’s the matter?” he asks, concern written all over his face. 

“I can’t hit you.”

Concern turns to confusion. “Hit me? You’re not hitting me.”

“Spanking is hitting.”

“Oh.” Dean shrugs. “Well, technically, but not really.”

Cas arches a brow.

“Seriously, you know what I mean. Yes, it’s ‘technically’ hitting, but I’m totally consenting, and it's the intent that matters here.”

“I know that, which is...also why I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?”

Cas, picking at a slub in the blanket on the bed, raises his eyes to Dean’s. There’s trust there, understanding and affection there, and how can he ruin that for a roleplay? He drops his gaze again. “I don’t want to punish you.”

“You’re not actually punishing me, Cas.”

“I know, but that’s what we’re calling it, and I’m just not comfortable with it. I hate the thought of hurting you, punishing you. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

A finger tucks under his chin, lifting it until he’s locking eyes with Dean again. “Okay. So we won’t.”

Relief floods him like cool water on a scorching day. “We won’t?”

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Ever.”

Cas nods. Dean tickles his scruff as he takes his finger away. He wishes he had it back.

“Anything else bugging you?”

“Boy. Calling you a boy. It’s...I don’t like it.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I’m not crazy about it, either.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Cas asks, raising his eyes to Dean’s once more. 

“Wasn’t a dealbreaker.”

They sit in silence. Cas knows he’s broken the mood, and he feels horrible about it. “Maybe not every role is right for every actor,” he mutters. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I know nothing about domming, nothing about taking care of a sub. There’s so much more to this than internet research suggests.” 

“I guess our first mistake was trusting Professor Google,” Dean jokes. It brings a smile, briefly, to Cas’ face.

“Yeah.” Cas sighs. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but clearly I am not a badass dom.”

“I dunno about that. You can be pretty bossy.” Dean grins softly. 

“Ha ha.” He shoves Dean lightly. 

“You know, you’re the one who said we were tryin’ on roles. Maybe you need to take a chance and try this on. Own it.”

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think I could ever be a dom in the traditional sense. I don’t even understand it, to be honest. I thought it was just about having a little fun—plastic handcuffs, blindfolds, being ‘bossy’, maybe a playful swat to the ass. But I think it’s more complex than I thought. I’d have to know a lot more to do this right, and I think that the level of trust you have to have in a partner to do this is too much for a simple roleplay. I just wanted you to feel good and let go a little.”

Dean shrugs. “That sounds good to me.”

With a purse of his lips, Cas says, “But the point of the roleplay is to experience this sort of situation, and I want you to have a good experience. I don’t think I’m good enough to act out this role. It’s just...not me, I guess, and I don’t know how to make it me.” He rubs at his forehead as if he can rid himself of the headache forming there. He grits his teeth. “Maybe this is something you can do with someone el—”

“Hang on a minute,” Dean says, planting a hand on his knee. “First, I’m not doin’ this with anyone else. Second, you’ll be a great dom. Know why? Because I trust you with my life—hell, with Sammy’s life—and you can’t get more trust than that. You know what I need—you told me the other night that I need to let go, right? And that I need to be taken care of sometimes? Well, you know how to do that. You take care of me plenty, and you know how to get me to let go, sexually and otherwise. And third, I...think I have an idea of how we can do this, if you’re willing.”

Still apprehensive but also curious, Cas waits for him to continue.

“Remember when I had a hard time with the sex worker thing? Remember how I couldn’t get into it, didn’t feel like it fit, felt weird? Remember what you suggested to make it better?”

_Is he really talking about…_

“You know, we played it like we were a couple just pretending to be in those roles?”

_He is talking about that._ “Mmmhmm.”

“Well...we could do that.”

The chance to be with Dean again, as his partner, is tempting, even though they wouldn’t be doing all the sweet things they did last weekend. It would be easier, he thinks, at least for the roleplay. “Are you sure?”

“Totally. That way, if we screw up, it’s just part of the scene—Dan and Cal, the couple, screw it up, and you know them. They’re chill; they’ll just laugh through it.”

Chuckling at the idea of talking about Dan and Cal like they’re actual people, Cas says, “I think that would be easier on me, honestly. I still don’t want to do the punishment and the ‘boy’ stuff, though.”

“Nah, me neither.” Dean’s eyes flick to his hand, still sitting on Cas’ knee. “How do you feel about the spanking? You mentioned a ‘playful swat’ like that would be okay and I, uh, was just wondering how you feel about trying it.”

Cas looks at him carefully. He thinks he understands what Dean’s asking, but he doesn’t want to assume. “How do _you_ feel about it?”

“Um, I mean, I wouldn’t mind trying spanking, if it’s okay with you. Not as punishment, just for the...sensation. Always thought it’d be interesting.”

Considering it, Cas realizes that if it’s coming from a trusting, loving place, with the purpose of creating sensation rather than harming and with full consent, it could be fun and pleasurable for Dean, and Dean’s pleasure is appealing to him. It’s no different than the biting they’ve already done. Plus, though he’s trying to be casual, Cas can tell he really wants it, and he’s trusting him with it. _Him._ “Okay, let’s try it,” he says. 

Dean raises his eyes. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, cool.” He squeezes his knee. “And hey, I need to apologize, man. I was purposely making things difficult for you to goad you into spanking me instead of being honest and asking for what I wanted. And the thing is, I know I could have asked you and you would’ve been cool with talking about it. I just...I guess this is new stuff for me, too—being a sub, asking for what I want, that stuff. But I trust you, so...I dunno, just, I’m sorry and thanks for being willing to do this with me.”

Cas places his hand atop Dean’s. They trade warm smiles until Dean’s smile becomes a smirk. 

“And I’ll stop being a brat, I guess.”

“Good luck with that,” Cas teases, feeling much better. 

“Asshole,” Dean laughs, shoving him hard. 

Cas shoves him back harder, so Dean does it again, leading Cas to pin him to the bed. “You’re only proving my point,” Cas growls.

Dean licks his lips. Cas watches the motion. 

And then, he realizes he’s hovering over a completely naked Dean, and they aren’t in a roleplay. “I’m sorry!” he apologizes as he scrambles off his friend.

“No, it’s okay, I…” He looks like he’s going to say something else, but instead he scrutinizes Cas’ shirt. “What’s that?”

Or rather, he’s scrutinizing the thing that’s fallen out of his shirt—the damn ring he’s been wearing all week because he felt lonely. He forgot to take it off. _Goddamnit_. “Oh. Yeah. Uh, it’s the ring. I put it on a chain when I went to the gym after work on Monday because I didn’t want to lose it. Just sort of forgot it was there, I guess.” _Please please please don’t question me and my hasty lie that makes no sense at all._

“Oh. Um, you wanna wear it? Since you have it and we’re supposed to be a couple?”

“Oh. Uh, sure, if you want.”

“Yeah, yeah, lemme grab mine.” 

He takes the band out of his bedside drawer and slips it onto his finger. Cas does the same, coiling his chain on the tabletop. He instantly feels calmer. Dean looks calmer, too, or perhaps that’s just his imagination.

“Time in?” Dean asks.

“Time in,” Cas says with a tight nod. 

Dean smirks as he becomes Dan, lacing his fingers with Cas’— _Cal’s—_ and kissing his ring. “Well, what are you waiting for, _sir_? Dom me, baby.”

* * *

Cas has Dean on his hands and knees, begging.

“Oh babe, please, _please_ ,” Dean cries. 

“That’s sir to you.”

“Shit, sorry sir, sir, please.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you’ve taken enough pleasure for yourself yet.” Cas coats his fingers with fresh lube, then eases his hand up and down Dean’s shaft. 

“Need to feel you, though, babe.”

“Mmm. Because you’re doing so well, I’ll let that one go.”

“Sorry. Thank you, sir. You know what I need.”

Cas has left trails of bruising kisses along his collarbone, sucked his balls into his mouth, blown him as he massaged his prostate. Dean accepted them all beautifully, his protests quelled when Cas told him that he wouldn’t come if Dean—or Dan, rather—didn’t take his pleasure first, as much as Cas thought he needed. 

“Yes, I do know what you need. Now, if you’re very, very good, I’m going to give you a special treat, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

And he is good. He’s wonderful, accepting all the pleasure Cas is giving him, letting himself be cared for. “You’re so good for me,” he purrs, kissing the small of his back. “Are you ready?”

Dean nods.

“Color?”

“Green, sir.”

“Hands on the headboard, baby,” he says, pretending he slipped up with his own endearment to ease Dean’s nerves.

Dean sighs. He stands on his knees, hands clasping the headboard. 

Cas nibbles his ear. “Pick a number one to ten.”

“Uh, five?”

He watches Dean carefully for his reaction as he delivers five slaps with his hand, just enough to sting, then rubs at the hot, reddened flesh. 

Dean’s knuckles turn white as he clutches the railing, soft curses raining from his lips. Seeing how positively Dean reacts, Cas feels more confident that this is like the biting for him—the sensation gives him a thrill, and that thrills Cas.

“Fuck your fist. Number?”

“Five,” he whispers as his right hand lets go of the headboard and his arm starts moving.

He pushes his lubed fingers into Dean with one hand while delivering another five slaps, a little harder, with the other. Dean pushes back, riding his fingers and moaning.

“Number?”

“Fuck, how high can I go, sir?” he gasps.

“Ask me for what you need.”

“Ten, please. Please.”

Cas slaps his ass ten times, then pulls his fingers out and sinks into him in one long thrust. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck! Yes!” Dean cries, hand racing as Cas fucks into him.

“You’re so good,” Cas murmurs. “I won’t come until you do, so take. Take it, come on, you’re doing so well, take it, take it all—”

He’s cut off as Dean pushes back against him and screams, come exploding from his cock. 

His own orgasm moments later feels like it’s pulled from some hidden cavern in his body, dragging every anxiety he’s ever felt out with it. 

They collapse to the mattress, spent. 

Cas withdraws from Dean, then immediately curls around him, embracing him. He tries to remember what he read about aftercare—cuddles, reassurance, sustenance, something about lotion after rougher play. 

“I’m going to clean us up and take care of your skin, okay?” he whispers. Dean nods. 

Cas washes quickly, then brings a warm, soft towel from the bathroom and carefully cleans Dean’s body. He follows it up with creamy, unscented lotion with aloe on Dean’s buttocks. The skin is red, but looks okay otherwise.

“Do you want some water? Some chocolate, maybe?” 

“Little water, sure.” 

“Be right back.”

He hurries to the kitchen and grabs water and a snack just in case. When he returns, Cas cracks the bottle open and hands it to him; Dean sits up and takes a few swigs.

“How are you doing?”

Dean returns the bottle and smiles. “Awesome.”

“Good. You did so well.”

“Thanks. Gonna hit the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Sure.”

As he waits for Dean to return, he wonders what to do next. Should he continue the aftercare? It seems like it’s important, and it’s a part of the roleplay, presumably. Does he do it as the dom? As Cal, Dan’s husband? As himself? How long does he stay? Are they even in the roleplay anymore?

When Dean returns, Cas is a nervous wreck. 

Luckily for him, Dean seems purely at ease. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” he says. “Turn off the light.”

That answers a couple of questions, at least. He does as he’s asked, then pulls the covers over both of them, seeking Dean out and drawing him to his chest. Dean sinks into his embrace readily, his body already the sort of heavy that only comes with complete trust.

“Night, babe,” Dean murmurs, linking their fingers. 

“Night, hon,” Cas replies in a whisper, kissing the crown of his head.

Cas is deeply satisfied and at peace here with Dean, wearing a ring, bodies entwined. He knows it can’t last, but he doesn’t dwell on that now. Instead, he lets his eyes drift closed and shares space and breaths with his husband, deciding that maybe it can’t last forever, but it can last the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: dom/sub roleplay, dom/sub elements, discussion of punishment, power dynamics, spanking, restraint, feels, discomfort, using their words (for some things)
> 
> Chapter Summary: Dean is sad as he thinks about their vanilla weekend, but perks up when he finds out Cas is at his house, cooking for him. They don’t talk much about that roleplay, both of them seeming to avoid it. They decide to do a dom/sub roleplay, though neither have experience beyond internet research. Dean is the sub. He wants to be spanked and tries to goad Cas into it; Cas tries the dom role but doesn’t want to hurt or “punish” Dean; he feels he doesn’t do the role well and worries he’s not going to give Dean a good experience, so he times out. They have a heart-to-heart and discuss what elements they tried and didn’t like (punishment, calling Dean “boy”). They try again, this time as a married couple doing the dom/sub roleplay (like they did for the sex worker/john roleplay) and it works out much better. Cas does aftercare and spends the night as his “husband.”
> 
> ***
> 
> Ohhh, those feels! How was this chapter for you?
> 
> Next chapter: Should they keep doing this couple thing?


	14. This Couple Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, bee-autiful people! Happy weekend and Happy Hanukkah for those who celebrate! 
> 
> Tags for this chapter in the end notes ❤️

_We have to stop this._

The morning after their dom/sub roleplay, Cas watches Dean sleep, morning light filtering through the blinds. The roleplay that was supposed to be hot but between strangers—or, more accurately, a professional relationship between a dom and a sub—turned into a couple thing. He slept here again. Had Dean in his arms again. They have an unwritten rule not to repeat scenes, and yet they sort of did. Sure, it could be argued that they didn’t, that he would’ve needed to stay for aftercare anyway, but Cas isn’t stupid. They repeated the couple thing. 

And he knows that’s on him.

Dean saw that he was uncomfortable and suggested the couple thing without hesitation. He must’ve known it would help. How? Cas figures it’s because he’s just that transparent to his best friend. Sort of pitiful, too, probably.

He can’t help it, though. He _loved_ the couple scenes. They made him feel secure and wanted and loved, even if they weren’t real. He wants that, for real. Always has. 

Cas sighs. No use thinking about that _again_. 

And who is he to complain? He’s having amazing roleplay sex every week with a hot guy who also happens to be the best friend he’s ever had. 

His best friend, that’s _all_.

He barely keeps himself from reaching out to smooth his _best friend’s_ hair. 

They fell asleep last night before they could decide whether the roleplay was continuing into the morning. Cas twists the ring on his finger. How awkward was _that_ , having Dean see the ring on a chain around his neck? He was so sweet about it, though, and he hardly questioned why Cas was wearing it—yet more evidence that he’s pathetically obvious in his investment in this couple thing. 

Time to get back to the sex part of their roleplay stuff, perhaps. Maybe think about one they can’t turn into a couple scene, though, because that should _really_ stop.

He’s about to get up to make coffee and ruminate some more when Dean stirs. “Stay, babe,” he murmurs. 

_Fuck._ It’s hard to convince himself to stop this couple thing when Dean calls him babe. 

“It’s coffee o’clock, hon,” Cas jokes. “I have to get up. I wanted to hit Colette and Cain’s today.”

Hell, that isn’t a lie, at least. He really did plan to check their place out.

Dean blinks his eyes open suddenly. “Oh, yeah, right,” he says. It sounds odd, rushed. “Okay. Coffee and food, then we go see bees and shit.”

Cas’ brows pinch in confusion. He had planned to go alone, knowing his interest is esoteric and that, as good a friend as Dean is, he's not interested in the particulars of honey production. Plus, he’s almost positive that Dean already had plans to go to a car show. “You’re coming?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, unless you wanna go by yourself.”

“Uh, no, you’re welcome to come. I just thought bees and whatnot weren’t your thing.” Then he second-guesses himself, wondering if they’re _Dan’s_ thing.

He shrugs as he stretches and yawns. “They’re not, but they’re your thing, so we do it.”

Cas’ heart swells, even if it has no right to. “Thanks, hon.”

“No problem, bee-autiful.”

 _We really, really have to stop this._ “Stop,” he smiles shyly.

“No,” Dean— _Dan—_ grins as he pulls him down beside him. He kisses him, a soft, sweet brush of lips. “Thanks for last night, by the way.”

 _Oh._ Cas read that sometimes people need to be close for a while after a dom/sub scene, even a day later. Maybe that’s why he wants to go. He should’ve checked in with him first thing instead of thinking about himself. A proper dom—and a proper husband—would have. “How are you doing today?”

“Awesome.”

“The spanking wasn’t too much? You really feel okay?”

“The spanking wasn't _enough_ ,” he jokes, his eyes shining. “Nah, it was great, and I feel great.”

“M’kay,” Cas says, pressing a kiss of his own onto Dean’s lips. “Just making sure.”

Dean runs his hand along Cas’ arm, making him shiver in delicious and confusing ways. “If you wanna know how great, we can switch. I can take care of you this time.” He winks. “Want to?”

It sounds _wonderful,_ but… “Switch? Can we do that? I thought doms were doms and subs were subs.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s our sex life. We can do what we want. So, do you?”

He does, they do, and he discovers spanking isn’t his thing but being bound definitely _is_ …and as he’s crying out in pleasure every time he thrashes against his husband’s neckties while said husband plunges his mouth down his cock because he’s been _so, so good, babe_ , stopping this thing is the last thing on Cas’ mind.

* * *

“It was honestly really cool,” Dean tells the guys during cards that night. Dean happily talking about their day makes Cas smile all over again as he relives it in his mind.

They’d spent the entire day together, first at Colette and Cain’s Creations checking out their retail store, farm, apiary, and raspberry fields (Cas had teased him because he— _Dan_ , really, but Dean, too—had never picked fruit before), then lunch, the car show, and the grocery store before they came back to Dean’s to make food. It had been heaven—at least until the guys arrived. They’d kept it going as long as they could, but when Benny knocked his distinctive shave-and-a-haircut rap at the door, they looked at each other and slipped off their rings. “End scene,” Cas had said quietly, both so he felt some sort of control and so he didn’t have to hear Dean’s consoling, pitying tone saying it or something like it. The grim line of his mouth was enough. 

“I don’t like bees,” Benny grumbles.

“Bees—”

“—are important to the world, man,” Dean interrupts the speech Cas was about to give. “If we didn’t have bees, we couldn’t eat. True story.”

“I know, I know, but I got stung one too many times by those fuckers.” Benny used to live in the country and Cas imagines he’s gotten stung several times in his life.

“Are you sure those were bees, though? Maybe they were hornets or wasps,” Cas says.

“And hey, you were on their turf,” Dean adds. “Just sayin’.”

“You sure do like bees all of a sudden,” Benny comments, but his tone is friendly and he smiles and sends Dean a wink.

“It’s not sudden. I just have a new appreciation after today.”

“ _Appreciation_ , sure,” Lee mutters.

Dean squints. “I can appreciate things.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can, nature boy.”

Cas’ eyes ping-pong back and forth. He’s never seen as much tension between them as he's seen recently.

“Well, since you’re being a tool, you’re not eating our Honey-Garlic Chicken Wings.”

Those had been fun to make. Dean accidentally smeared honey on his cheek and Cas— _Cal_ —licked it off, leading to one hell of a makeout session. 

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Lee smirks and shakes his head. “Man, I’m just giving you shit.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna regret it if you keep it up, ‘cause those wings are damn fine. _Damn_ fine.” 

He turns his eyes Cas’ way. “Damn fine” was what he’d called Cas (what Dan called Cal) when he was up to his elbows in flour and egg, though he’d looked anything but. They start to laugh and their friends join in, even Lee, though no one but Dean and Cas know exactly what they’re laughing at. These little jokes, the way Dean stood up for something Cas loves, the way Dean’s eyes don’t leave his face even as their laughter dies down...it makes Cas want to reach over and kiss him, right in front of everyone. 

They really, really, _really_ have to stop this couple thing. 

* * *

They really, really, _really_ have to keep doing this couple thing.

Dean is wrapped in Cas’ arms as they cuddle after their latest roleplay—this time, a king and his naughty, mouthy servant. It’s the cap to a fantastic day of driving, lunch, and sampling wine at an honest-to-God vineyard. They used the wine for their king/servant scene, which made the vineyard visit feel more like it was for the roleplay they’d planned and less like...well, like a date. Which they weren’t on and they haven’t been going on, of course. Obviously. It’s just that couples do that sort of romantic shit and, well, they’ve been playing a couple every roleplay since the dom/sub weekend.

Not that playing a couple had been strictly necessary. 

For the doctor/patient roleplay it was sort of necessary, because that one felt a little awkward otherwise (ethics and all, even though Cas, his “plastic surgeon,” refused to take him as a patient because he was “an absolutely perfect specimen of humankind” so they fucked in his “office,” the bedroom, instead). For the wrestlers one it wasn’t necessary, but they were laughing too much so they had to incorporate that into the scene, and being a couple made the most sense. For the hypnotism one, though, it wasn’t necessary. At all. Yet they still did. And this time...well, Dean just wanted a little more of Cas.

Cas is leaving tomorrow for their family’s annual vacation, coupled this year with a huge family reunion. He’s going to be gone for two weeks. Two _fucking_ (or, in this case, not fucking) weeks. He’s not a needy or clingy person, but damn, the last time Cas was gone was tough. He can’t imagine what it’ll be like now, to go two whole weeks without...sex. Yeah.

“Do you want me to sleep in the spare bedroom tonight, since I have to be up so early for my trip?” Cas—or his husband Cal, rather—asks softly against his hair. Since it didn’t make sense for Cal to go on a vacation/family reunion without Dan, they agreed that Cal is going on a business trip instead.

“No. You’re gonna miss me too much while you’re gone. You’d better stay in our bed tonight.” 

“Ah. Okay.”

“And you’d better wake me up to say goodbye. You know how you get. Can’t leave if you don’t have your goodbye kiss.”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Get some sleep. You know how grumpy you are when you wake up in the morning.”

“Now you’re pushing it.” 

Dean giggles as Cas pokes him in the ribs, then sighs as Cas turns off the light and snuggles next to him. He plays with Cas’ ring as he falls asleep.

What seems like mere minutes later, he’s woken with a jostle of his shoulder. “Mmm?”

“I’m leaving,” Cas whispers.

That’s enough to drag him into consciousness, just barely. He props himself on one elbow. “’Kay. Sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“No, it’s okay. I have to pick up Ga—uh, my co-worker, and my flight will be getting in late when I come back, so I don’t want to bother you to pick me up.” 

“Never a bother,” he murmurs.

“Well, thank you, but still, you need your sleep. And speaking of that, go back to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

He almost does—even drops back onto his pillow—but the rough drag of metal against his shoulder reminds him of something. “Babe. Kiss.”

He hears a chuckle, then feels Cas’ lips against his, soft and gentle. Knowing he won’t get this again for some time, he tugs Cas closer until he falls on top of him. They make out lazily until Cas’ reminder alarm tells him he needs to leave. 

Reluctantly, Dean lets go. Cas cups his face and grazes his lips against his pout. “I love you, honey pie,” he whispers.

Dean’s throat tightens in the most foolish, unnecessary way, because this is just a roleplay, damn it. He doesn’t _want_ this stuff. “Love you, babe. Be safe. Have fun.”

They share a hug, and then his husband is gone.

* * *

“Oh dear Lord in Heaven, _when_ is he coming back?”

Dean glares at Lee over a glass of the 2018 Blasi Zinfandel he and Cas got from the vineyard. “Late tonight.”

“Thank God.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole.”

“And you don’t have to be a mope.”

“Fellas, put down the guns, man,” Benny chuckles. “Let’s get back to it.”

They play a few rounds of Blackjack, but Dean can’t concentrate. He’s excited. Nervous. Happy. Oh, and horny, too. He won’t even _see_ Cas tonight, but just knowing they’ll be sleeping in the same time zone both thrills him and makes him breathe a little easier.

They’ve talked while he’s been gone, of course. Every night he listened to Cas laugh, whine, grumble, scream, sigh...even snore once when they stayed up talking late (though it was only ten p.m. in California, Cas was three hours ahead of him in Michigan). Cas listened to the same from him. They talked about insignificant things, about important things, about things that made them happy and things that are stressing them out. They even talked about their roleplays and what they wanted to do next.

They didn’t talk about one thing, though.

“You miss him, huh?” Garth says quietly when they break for dessert. He had the guys over early for pizza because he just couldn’t stand being alone anymore. He needed distraction. Companionship. 

Dean nods as he takes out a scoop and a carton of vanilla ice cream, one of the few basics he has left because he hasn’t done much shopping or cooking, preferring to stay away from home as much as he could. He grabs a few bowls, then warms the scoop with hot water for easier serving and pops the lid off the container.

Garth noses through Dean’s cabinets until he finds something satisfactory—honey that Dean bought when they visited Colette and Cain’s the second time (since Cas took the other ones home) and mini chocolate chips he didn’t even know he had. He opens both and slides the one full bowl to himself.

“Know why I love vanilla?” Garth asks, but continues without waiting for a response as Dean scoops, “It’s because it’s so versatile. It’s a great base for everything, you know? You can do it up however you like it. I mean, it mixes with just about anything. You can do savory, salty, sweet. You can do light flavors like citrus or dark flavors like chocolate. You can add tons of toppings and the vanilla complements them, doesn't bring ‘em down. It makes all the extra stuff more interesting. But it’s awesome on its own, too. It doesn’t _need_ the extra stuff. People knock vanilla all the time, but it’s way more complex and satisfying than people give it credit for.” 

Dean stops scooping and stares at Garth while he works the chocolate chips into his ice cream, then drizzles honey on top and licks a spot of the sticky stuff off his thumb. With a satisfied hum, he looks up at Dean, flashes him a quick, casual smile, then walks off toward the sunroom to join the guys. 

Dean is still staring after him when Sam comes to retrieve the rest of the bowls.

When the game resumes, his head is spinning. 

It spins for a completely different reason ten minutes later.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Benny cries as the door opens.

“Literally, just about,” Gabe, Cas’ brother, grins. “We’re draggin’ ass. But hey, lookit this new guy I brought, huh?”

Cas’ updated clothing is not so new to Dean, but is quite striking to everyone else. The guys whistle and say things like “Lookin’ good!” And yeah, Cas does look good—he especially loves the colorful beaded bracelets that scream _Cas_ —but Dean hardly notices. It’s just having Cas here, _home_ , that makes his eyes bug out of his head. “You’re early,” he says.

“Yeah,” he answers softly.

“I switched our flight,” Gabe chimes in. “Mind if we play?”

“Of course not! The more the merrier!” Garth declares, getting up to pull two more chairs around the table.

Dean doesn’t want to play cards anymore. He wants to tell everyone to go home so he can take Cas to bed. To have sex, of course. Because that’s what they do. They don’t tangle limbs and breathe each other in, they don’t tickle each other’s necks with their scruff, they don’t talk affectionately to each other or sleep soundly together. They have sex, sometimes while playing a couple who does all that stuff, which just happens to make it better for some reason.

Garth puts Cas’ chair right next to Dean, even though it would’ve been easier to simply put the empty chair on the end of the table like he did on the other side for Gabe. Benny, edged out but not seeming to mind, slides his chair to the end across from Gabe. 

Dean tries not to jump for joy at having Cas next to him once again. With all their friends’ eyes on him, though—eyes that know what they get up to in the bedroom, and one set of eyes that was just giving him shit for being a “mope” about Cas’ absence—it feels strange to even hug him, though he normally would because he’s his best friend and he hasn’t seen him in two weeks. So instead of a hug, he smirks and murmurs, “Hey, New Guy.” 

Cas purses his lips, but his heavy eyes dull his indignance. “Hey.”

“Lookin’ a little beat.”

“Well, I did just get off a plane.”

“Did you, New Guy?”

Cas arches his left brow, which always sends a shiver down his spine. “If I’m New Guy, does that make you Old Guy?”

Dean throws his head back in laughter. Cas chuckles at his own joke.

“Can we start the game now, gentlemen?” Gabe shouts (quite unnecessarily, in Dean’s opinion). 

Everyone picks up their cards, but Dean cannot stop thinking about Cas. He needs _something_ , some part of him, right now. He pulls out his phone and types:

_Dean 6:39pm: Maybe it makes me Dan. And maybe you’re Cal. And maybe you’re a guy that my buddy brought over for game night. He’s talked about us to each other so much that we feel like we know each other. We’re strangers, but not quite strangers. And maybe, if you want, we’re wildly attracted to each other at first sight. And we hook up in my basement, guests be damned. Thoughts?_

Cas’ phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it.

Dean, who can’t exactly tell Cas to check his phone in front of everyone, types _Dude, check your phone_ , hoping the multiple texts will get his attention.

Focused on the game or just tired from traveling, Cas continues to ignore it.

Dean thinks about throwing in the towel—maybe it’s too much for Cas tonight—but decides to try one more time.

“You guys hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Cas admits. “I didn’t eat a bucket of candy on the plane like Gabe did.”

Gabe flips Cas off and play continues as Dean says, “Come with me, New Guy.”

Cas rolls his eyes (at him or Gabe or maybe both) and follows Dean to the kitchen, where Dean piles several slices of cold pizza on a plate. 

“Check your messages, dude,” Dean whispers under his breath. 

Frowning, Cas pulls out his phone and reads.

“No pressure—”

“Yes. I’ll eat and then come up with a distraction.”

 _Yes_.

After a couple more rounds and three slices of pizza, Cas says, “You know what we haven’t played in years? Bocce.” He turns to Dean. “Isn’t it in your basement?”

“I think so, yeah. You wanna help me look? In the meantime, you guys can grab some more beers and play cornhole ‘til we get out there.”

“Sounds good to me!” Garth says, standing. “Come on, you guys! Just soda for me, though. I’ve had my one beer. You know how I am if I drink too much.”

The others laugh and tease him as they ease themselves up and meander toward the fridge.

“Let’s see if we can find this thing,” Cas says, heading toward the basement. Shortly, not wanting to look _too_ eager, Dean follows and slams the door behind him. 

When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, Cas is waiting in a dark corner. “Hi,” Cas whispers as he pulls Dean toward him and crushes their mouths together. 

“Oh God,” Dean mumbles into his mouth.

His entire body is lit up, electrified, surging over and over against Cas, around Cas, into Cas. He’s dizzy, lust-drunk, wanting. Their pants are down to their ankles in a flash, hands wrapping around cocks and fisting hair. Dean is careful not to leave bruises, but he can’t help biting and sucking on his lip. Cas responds with no qualms about bruises, though he tucks them under Dean’s shirt; Dean moans with every one.

“Fuck, D-Dan, Dan,” Cas gasps, breathing hard against Dean’s neck. He’s practically climbing Dean as he hooks his leg around his back, tugging him closer. It’s hot, so incredibly hot.

He just wishes Cas hadn’t said his roleplay name. 

_But that’s what we’re doing_ , he reminds himself, forcing himself to whisper “Cal” before he dives in for another kiss. 

As they writhe against each other, Dean tries to get himself into the scene they’re playing—the virtual strangers, lust at first sight—but he’s losing his edge and it won’t be long before someone comes looking for them. He has to figure out how to get himself into his role. _How do actors cry on cue?_ _They think of something that makes them sad. So I just need to think of something that makes me want to come._

He does, and soon he’s spilling over Cas’ hand, guilt and satisfaction tumbling through his body. 

Dean peeks his eyes open. Cas’ hand took over when Dean’s stilled, and using his spunk seems to help Cas with lubrication, which is good since they had nothing but skin-on-skin. It doesn’t seem quite enough to get him over, though, and he knows Cas sexually enough to tell he’s losing his edge, too, leaning against him and stripping his cock as fast as he can but not seeming to get much pleasure out of it. Biting his lip, he wonders whether he should say something, whether he should change the scene for Cas like he did in his own head, whether it would help. 

He dips his toes in, rumbling, “Come on, babe.”

Cas inhales sharply against his collarbone and grabs his shoulder.

 _Babe_ is something he could call any sexual partner, though, so he follows up with “You got this, sweetheart” to see if he’s on the right track.

Hot breath sweeps across Dean’s skin. Cas whimpers.

“Let go, sweetheart. I got you. That’s it,” Dean murmurs.

Or he thought it was it.

“I—I can’t,” Cas says abruptly, backing away and tucking himself in. 

Dread slogs through his veins like sludge. _I called it wrong. I called it wrong and made it weird. I—_

“Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m too tired. Long day.”

 _Oh. Of course he is, you selfish fucking asshole._ Dean dresses, not wanting to apologize with his pants down. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. I enjoyed what we did.” He smiles thinly. “Thanks, Dan.”

Dean has a sudden, painful urge to cry. “Time out. Cas—”

“Sorry, it’s just, the trip and—”

“No, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“You have nothing to be—”

“Yeah I do.” He tugs him into a fierce hug. “This is what I should’ve done when you got here, not tried to jump you. Welcome home. Missed you, man.”

Cas sags in his arms. “Missed you, too.”

As they rest in each other’s embrace, footsteps get louder overhead. The door opens. “Did you guys find it or what?” Lee shouts down the stairs.

“No. We were just about to give up,” Cas calls back, separating and straightening his clothes. 

Dean’s going to kill Lee for his inconvenient timing.

“I should get home,” Cas says when the door closes again. 

Dean knows it’s probably better for Cas to go home and get settled, but he offers, “You can stay if you want.”

“I know, and I’d like to, but I have to drive Gabe home and I have quite a bit to catch up on.”

Logically, Dean understands. Emotionally, he doesn’t. 

“Yeah, I get it.”

They climb the stairs, the tension odd and thick between them. 

“Dean?” Cas says just as he closes the door behind them.

Dean turns, nervous about what he’ll see on Cas’ face. He breathes easier when he’s met with the familiar warmth in Cas’ blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“I have a lot to do tomorrow, but maybe we could hang out tomorrow night and watch a movie or something?”

He’s happy to say yes, of course, happy he’ll have some time with his best friend. That’s exactly what they need, really—not sex, just being together. A do-nothing sort of night. Boring. Vanilla.

Dean gulps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Mentions of spanking and restraint, brief discussion of dom/sub from last chapter, domesticity, tension between friends, Garth being awesome, poorly planned roleplay, strangers roleplay, inner conflict, angst, hugs
> 
> The tension is building! That hum of cognitive dissonance is rapidly becoming a roar. It’s getting harder and harder to separate things in their minds, which is bound to lead to some questionable (read: dumb) decisions. 
> 
> But how about Garth’s words of wisdom, huh? That guy is one smart cookie. 
> 
> Next chapter: Plain vanilla.


	15. Plain Vanilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your positive comments last week! They made me feel so happy and appreciated and I’m super grateful to all of you. 
> 
> Tags at the end if you need them, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. After all, this is the plain vanilla chapter. 😘
> 
> And speaking of, let’s have a taste of plain vanilla, shall we?

He had to stop it. 

He had to, before his mind wandered where it shouldn’t go.

He _had_ to, because he didn’t want sex with a stranger, but that was the roleplay, and he couldn’t just improvise and do whatever he wanted, no matter how much he wanted to. That wasn’t the story.

He _had to_ , because—

“Yo, should you be driving?” Gabe says to him.

Cas blinks— _How did I get here? I don’t even remember_ —then scowls at his brother. “I’m fine to drive. We haven’t crashed yet, have we?”

“Yet,” he mutters. “So! You guys did it in the basement. You got a kinky horror thing or something?”

He tenses. “How did you know that?”

“Garth kept trying to keep me away from the basement. Then I used my powers of deduction.”

Cas sighs. He’s not sure how Garth knew, but if anybody had to know, Garth would be the one Cas would choose. He’s grateful he tried to intervene, and even more grateful they weren’t caught. “What of it?”

“Uh oh. Sounds like Mr. Right was doin’ it all wrong.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Why not? You do.”

“I do not!”

“Not with actual _words_. Just your actions.”

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I really don’t have the energy for this. And he wasn’t the problem. I was.”

“Aww, was Mr. Happy feeling droopy?”

Cas shoots his brother a glare before turning his eyes back to the road. “Just couldn’t get into it. Which was probably good considering Lee came around.”

“That fuckin’ dick. Don't know what Dean sees in him.” 

“I don’t know. He’s loyal.”

“Lee? That surprises—”

“No. Dean.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, that’s true. You should really tell Dean how much of an asshole he’s been to you all these years.”

Cas shrugs. His sucky behavior has been subtle and hard to prove. He mostly tunes the guy out now.

“Anyway, Garth tried to stop him, too, but not too hard ‘cause I think he didn’t wanna make things look suspicious. ’Sides, Lee was goin’ no matter what. You know him, swinging his Small Dick Energy around. So, the fear of getting caught didn’t do it for ya, huh?”

“Evidently not,” he says, though that wasn’t the reason at all. 

“Probably a little snake-bitten from the hooker thing, eh?”

“ _Gabriel_. I didn’t tell you that so you could keep bringing it up.”

“ _You_ didn’t tell me that at all. Lee told Sam and Sam told me, and then you ’fessed up.” His brother wiggles through a stretch. “Are you _ever_ gonna tell me what else you’ve done?”

“No,” Cas answers, staring straight ahead. “And we can stop talking about this now.”

Mockingly, Gabriel repeats what he said, then adds, “Someone’s grouchy when he doesn’t get some.”

_If only that were the reason._

They arrive at Gabriel’s door just in time, in Cas’ opinion. Gabe gathers his things, then says through the window, “Hey, look at me. Seriously.”

Cas flicks his gaze from the windshield to his brother’s face. 

“You don’t really want what you’ve been doing. It’s not for you. So go get what you really want, okay?”

He’s not sure whether Gabriel is talking about his situation with Dean or his occasional hookups before this roleplaying business, and he doesn’t want to talk about it either way. 

After he drops Gabe off, Cas heads to his apartment. It’s not where he wants to be, but their roleplay didn’t lend itself to spending the night, though if Cas had wanted to do the couple thing he knows Dean would’ve changed it up for him. In fact, he knows that Dean tried, when he called him those endearments they use. How transparent is he that Dean knew that’s what he wanted, or at least knew to use those words to get him off? It was working. Very well. And the worst part is that, despite knowing he has to stop this couple thing to protect himself, Cas wanted to go with it. He wanted it so much. That’s why he stopped. That’s why he didn’t take Dean up on his offer to stay, too, because he didn’t think he could be in the same house with him after two weeks of separation and _not_ sleep in his bed. 

Maybe they need to stop this altogether. Keeping this thing going between them hurts.

But not continuing it may hurt worse.

He pushes it out of his mind as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. 

And oh, joy of joys, his roommate is home.

“Well, sure was quiet around here without you, Feathers.”

Cas drops his bags by the door. “Strangely, despite being surrounded by forty people, it was quiet where I was, too. I assume because you were absent.”

“Oh, don’t be so charming.”

Cas toes off his shoes. “Can’t help it, Crowley. It’s what you do to me.”

Crowley hums as he perches his feet on the kitchen table. Cas pushes them off as he passes. He swears his roommate/co-worker is worse than a child. He’s a lot like Gabe, actually, and Cas really didn’t need another brother. 

“Not staying at your boyfriend’s tonight?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Cas discovers his iced tea mix is gone. He scowls and settles for making hot tea.

“You certainly spend enough time with him. Don’t ever bring him around, though.” 

“Not when you’re around,” he snips, uncaring that it deepens Crowley’s pout. 

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Tough shit.”

Crowley plants his feet on the table again. Cas knocks them down again. 

“I don’t know why you’re so afraid to bring him by.”

“Because you’re insufferable.”

“I’m just curious.”

“You’re just obsessed.”

“Castiel,” Crowley says, standing and pulling a second mug from the cabinet, “I’m not going after your boyfriend. He’s not even my type.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. _Everyone_ is Crowley’s type, and Dean would _definitely_ be Crowley’s type. Cas shudders to think about whether the reverse could be true. He doesn’t think so—he knows Dean’s type pretty well—but if it were, he’d have no choice but to burn his own eyes out. 

Crowley fiddles with something on the counter, then shoves his mug next to Cas’, the infuser in his cup filled with what smells like an English Breakfast tea. “So, you’re not your sunny self. What’s got your knickers in a twist? It can’t be Dean. Dean in your knickers would make you blush like a schoolgirl.”

He doesn't take the bait. “I’m fine, we’re fine, just tired. I’m seeing him tomorrow after I get some work done.”

“You mean _work_ work? You’re still on vacation one more day.”

“Yeah, well, I have a lot of shit to do.” Cas pours hot water into the cups.

“You know what all work and no play does.”

“I’m aware.” He can’t resist adding, “And I’m playing plenty, thanks.”

Crowley raises his brows. “Well, good for you. Just don’t get hurt.”

Cas stares at him, puzzled as to whether Crowley actually knows anything about him and Dean and why he would care about Cas getting hurt. Crowley usually looks out only for himself.

“What? You’re growing on me,” he says, taking his tea and walking out.

Cas retires to his room with his own tea and a book, but can focus on neither. He goes to bed, hoping the world will make sense in the morning.

* * *

Hanging out with Dean on Sunday night felt good, as it always does. But it also felt lacking. 

He knew it was just him and his off mood, though, so he didn’t say anything. He even agreed to their next roleplay on Friday night—a simple pizza delivery scene that turns sexy (“And hey, we get pizza after!” Dean had exclaimed happily, which made him laugh and feel right with his best friend again). The decision to do another stranger roleplay also felt right. 

Well, not _right_. Necessary.

What didn’t feel right was something he came across just before he went on vacation, something that was still there when he looked at it at the office on Sunday afternoon. He didn’t tell his father about it before vacation, nor on Sunday, figuring it was a simple mistake and not wanting to upset him unduly, especially with the stuff going on with his mom. He mentioned it to Dean, though, who seemed concerned but went with Cas’ theory that it was just an error.

On Monday afternoon, though, Cas wasn’t so sure it was an error.

And if it wasn’t, it would rock the entire company...and their family. 

For the rest of the week, he did his research, staying after hours in the guise of “catching up.” He canceled twice with Dean, which didn’t feel good, but he couldn’t do this stuff when everyone else was around. 

Today, he types a text to Dean:

_Cas 4:21pm: I’m sorry, but I have to cancel our roleplay for tonight. Work stuff. I know I’ve canceled all week and I really am sorry about that. I can have a pizza sent to you if you want. Maybe the delivery person will be cute and you can fulfill your fantasy anyway ha ha_

He grimaces as he sends it.

At 5:45, a pizza shows up for _him_ , delivered by Dean. “Figured you’d still need to eat,” he says as he places it and two sodas on the desk (the desk he fucked Dean on, his dick helpfully reminds him as it wakes up). 

“Thanks.” Cas sighs heavily, tired from...well, everything. “Let’s take this to the breakroom. I need to get out of my office.”

They carry dinner to the kitchenette, where Dean sits and uncovers a mouthwatering white pie. They eat it directly from the box, munching quietly for a couple of minutes until Dean says, “So. You’ve been killing yourself all week. What’s up?”

“The error wasn’t an error, turns out.”

“So what’s that mean?”

“It means the shit’s gonna hit the fan.”

Dean raises his brows.

“I think Bartholomew is skimming money from us.”

“Holy shit,” Dean says, leaning forward. “Bart? Your dad’s best friend? He’s been working for your dad for years. He’s practically family.”

“I know.”

“What’re you gonna do, Cas?”

Cas takes a sip of soda, then sits back. “I have to tell my father. He’s going to be heartbroken.” He shakes his head sadly. “I’ve been gathering as much evidence as I can. I don’t want to be wrong. I mean, I do, but I don’t think I am, and I need to have the evidence to prove it.”

“Shit. Does Gabe know?”

“No. I didn’t want to drag him into it.”

“You shouldn’t deal with this all by yourself.”

Cas shrugs. “I don’t know how he’d react. I think he’d be on my side, but I don’t want him to be so much on my side that he says or does something stupid to Bart that blows all my work to hell. It’s easier to deal with it on my own.”

Dean nods. “Some friend Bart is, huh? I can’t believe he would do that to your dad after all your dad and your family have done for him. What an asshole.”

“I know. My dad deserves a hell of a lot better.”

“For sure. That sucks. And it sucks that you have to be the one to tell him. I’m sorry, man. You must be stressed out.”

“Yeah.” He massages his temples. Dean doesn’t know just how stressed he is, over a lot of things. “To add to that, Mom told me during vacation that she hasn’t been feeling well. She’s pretty sure she’s having a relapse of her lupus.”

“Aww, shit.”

“Yeah. This certainly isn’t going to help.”

“Well, you know you can count on me, okay? If you need anything?”

“I know. I’d rather not bother you, though.”

A sharp kick connects with his shin. “Uh, _ow_ , asshole.”

“That’s for thinking you’re bothering me. You’re never bothering me. I _want_ to be there for you.”

Cas’ heart flutters happily, but he covers it with a roll of his eyes and a snarky “Could you be there less painfully?”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. So, talk.”

“I don’t want to. Make me laugh. Entertain me.”

“What, you think I’m some kind of jester or something?”

“Entertain me or I’m having you beheaded.”

“Which head?” Dean asks, wide-eyed, as he covers both his neck and his crotch.

Trying not to crack a smile at Dean’s joke, he replies, “It disturbs me that you seem equally concerned about both.”

“Nah. I’m more concerned about my dick. I need that.”

“Yet you don’t need your...head.”

“Nope. Look.” He stands and tucks his head under his shirt, then says in a sultry voice, “Hey, baby. Wanna come home with me? I’ll make it worth your while.” He thrusts his pelvis in Cas’ direction.

Grinning, Cas folds his arms. “How are you even talking? You have no head.”

Dean backs up a step, then approaches him again. “Hm, hm-hm. Hm-mm hm hm hm mm?”

Cas bursts into laughter at Dean’s closed-mouthed “talking.” Life might be fucked up at the moment, but at least he has his best friend.

* * *

Poor Cas is stressed.

Dean’s seen it.

And he wants to help, but he has no idea what to do. 

Cas can’t even be here for game night (game day, actually, since they’re playing on a Saturday afternoon this time to accommodate everyone’s schedules). Cas said to keep their plans and play without him. Dean did keep the plans, because everyone was looking forward to it, but it doesn’t feel right.

“No Cas?” Charlie asks when Dean announces they’re ready to start. The women are joining this time, so the table is fuller (even if it feels empty with Cas’ absence). 

“Nah. He’s working.”

“On a weekend?”

“Yeah.”

She pouts. He’s not sure if she’s pouting of her own accord or if she’s simply mimicking his.

“Everything all right?” Benny asks. 

Dean simply tells them that he has a lot going on at work, not wanting to get into details. When Thea asks if he’ll be joining them when he’s done, he shakes his head.

“He has to go help his mom. She has a bunch of gardening to do and his dad is hopeless at that stuff. They think she’s having a flare-up of her lupus, so he’s been over there quite a bit, helping out.”

“Sounds like he’s under a lot of stress,” Bess comments.

“Yeah. Every time I talk to him, it sounds like he’s about to explode cartoon-style onto the walls. I wish I could help more, but I have no idea what to do.”

“Your kinky sex must be helping, at least,” Jess grins.

“Nah. Not doing that right now.”

“No wonder you’re all sulky,” Sam razzes him. 

Dean scowls at him, then kicks his ankle. “Shut up.”

“Dude, why’d you kick me and not her?”

“I like your wife better.”

Chuckles ripple around the table.

“Well, hey, we should go out tonight!” Lee says, joining the conversation.

“Not feelin’ like goin’ anywhere, man.”

“That’s exactly why you should go! You’ll feel better!”

“Nah. Not in the headspace.”

“That’s why you _gotta_ go. Get yourself into a new headspace. C’mon, we’ll hit the club.”

Dean squints at him, shaking his head incredulously. “What? Dude, no.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not doing that to Cas, what the fuck?”

The table quiets.

Lee opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Bess.

“To get back to the stress thing, Dean,” she smiles, reaching across her husband and squeezing Dean’s arm, “when life is hard, sometimes Garth and I find that sex, kinky or otherwise, helps. That physical and emotional release can really reset your brain. But sometimes what’s just as good or even better is doing nice things that have nothing to do with sex. Like, a couple of weeks ago, we had my parents over. It was great, but really stressful, and Gertie was just a wild child afterwards. I didn’t even realize how stressed I was—you keep going because you have to, you know?—but Garth did, and he gave us a night just for us. Nothing fancy, just spending time together cuddling and dancing. I guess most people would call it vanilla. But I needed that comforting touch and time with my honey to decompress. It put everything in perspective.”

“Yeah, that’s the good stuff,” Charlie nods.

“That always helps us, too,” Sam adds, no trace of brotherly snark.

Dean nods, not quite sure how to apply what she’s saying to his situation with Cas. He thanks her for the advice anyway, knowing her heart’s in the right place.

The following Wednesday, Dean gets a series of text messages that get more and more frantic throughout the day:

_Cas 8:13am: Good morning, I’m treading water_

_Cas 9:27am: Going to fall asleep in my coffee I swear_

_Cas 10:01am: Crowley knows something’s up and he WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE I CAN’T ESCAPE HIM ANYWHERE HELP I’M TYPING THIS IN THE BATHROOM_

_Cas 11:32am: If Bart doesn’t stop calling me son I’m going to throat punch him_

_Cas 11:46am: He shook my hand I feel disgusting I need a handectomy or hell just take the whole arm_

_Cas 12:52pm: When did lunch happen_

_Cas 1:31pm: Good afternoon, I’m drowning_

_Cas 3:01pm: I have such a headache and I think it’s because my muscles are locked up. Do you think it would be crude to barricade myself in my office and jerk off? Though I suppose it’s not socially acceptable to masturbate in one’s office when one’s grandmotherly assistant is outside the door. Maybe I just need to be fucked until I can’t think. Or I need ice cream with sprinkles. Or a cocoon._

_Cas 3:03pm: For fuck’s sake I should not have word-vomited that pile of shit in your lap. Sorry. Going to shut up and hide now._

It’s then that Bess’ advice makes sense. Sex is great and has its place, but Cas doesn’t need sex (no matter how much he just rambled about it). Cas needs vanilla. Comforting touch without expectation. Someone to listen and spend time doing nothing with so he can decompress. But he needs a step further than a friend can offer.

Cas needs a husband.

Dean, who’s been responding to him steadily all day, texts: 

_Dean 3:07pm: When are you out of work?_

Cas replies _84 years_ , to which Dean calls him a smartass and makes him pick a time. When he does, Dean types:

_Dean 3:22pm: Good. Come to my place. I’m going to yours to grab clothes for you for tomorrow._

He hesitates, then sends:

_Dean 3:22pm: Wear your ring._

This isn’t how they do this at all. Neither of them has ever demanded a roleplay from the other—they always talk these things through and plan them ahead, even if briefly. He’s nervous about what Cas will say, but he knows Cas needs this—and hell, Dean does, too. He knows it, feels the itch under his skin for it. 

He doesn’t hear from Cas for a while, and he wonders if he pushed too far. More likely, he just got busy, but Dean still feels anxious until Cas’ text:

_Cas 4:05pm: See you after work, hon._

Dean releases a huge sigh.

* * *

When Cas walks through the door, Dean’s ready. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, immediately drawing him into a peck and then a hug. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day.”

Cas squeezes him, then tries to escape almost immediately. He’s done that every time he’s seen him since the Sunday he got back from vacation. This time, Dean doesn’t let him go, and eventually he feels Cas relax in his hold. “Thanks,” he mumbles against his shoulder.

“Welcome.” He cradles his face in his hands and pecks him again, then links their fingers and leads him to the bedroom, where his neon pink running shorts and a Lisa Frank-style leopard print shirt that makes Dean nauseous are laying on the bed. “Change, then come into the living room.”

Cas does as he’s told, and soon they’re side-by-side on the couch, cartons of Chinese food on the coffee table. 

“Smells good. What are we having?”

“You have to guess, babe,” Dean says, revealing a blindfold he had hidden in his pocket. 

He only created the game so he could feed Cas, and it’s working beautifully. With every right answer, he earns a kiss, and with every wrong answer, he gets a kiss “for luck” and another bite. He’s eaten a decent amount (and laughed a lot—they both have, especially when Dean dropped lo mein down Cas’ chin and all over his lap) when he finally takes off the blindfold. 

“Orange chicken,” he demands, making grabby hands. When Dean hands it to him, Cas leans forward and kisses him softly, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Thank you, hon,” he murmurs when they part.

Dean is gratified that Cas is slowly sloughing off his stress—and Dean also feels lighter, more settled than he has since Cas left for his vacation.

It’s getting too late to take Cas to a walking trail like he wanted to do, so they simply walk around his neighborhood. Cas had given him a look when Dean took his hand—probably because the neighbors will think they’re together—but Dean just held it tighter. He holds it the entire time, in fact, swinging it playfully or just caressing his thumb as he talks all about his fake workplace exploits. They both know he’s just spouting off tricks that Jim played on Dwight on _The Office_ , but it makes them laugh anyway. 

When they get home, Dean flicks the TV on and they watch some mindless dating show where the couples barely know each other before getting engaged. It’s more for the noise than anything, though they do actually get into it a little. Mostly, though, they cuddle, Cas lying against Dean’s chest while Dean plays with his hair. By the way Cas’ head grows heavy, he figures it’s helping.

It’s only 9:00 when the show finishes, but Dean announces bedtime anyway and Cas doesn’t fight it. He tells Cas to take a shower. While he’s doing that, Dean changes into a t-shirt and lounge shorts, then lights the room with a single candle and digs out the massage oil he bought on his way home earlier. Upon Cas’ return, Dean guides him to the bed. “On your belly, sweetheart,” he says. 

His muscles are _tight_. “Damn, babe,” he murmurs. “Should’ve gotten my hands on you sooner.”

It says a lot that Cas doesn’t even retort with a suggestive quip.

Dean hums a nameless tune as he works his fingers into Cas’ muscles, easing up when he winces. When he’s finished one side, he taps him to flip over, then repeats his work. Cas doesn’t get hard under his boxers, and neither does he. Even if he did, he’d ignore it. That’s not the goal tonight.

Cas still frowns at his own crotch, though. “Sorry. You relaxed me way too much.”

“Kinda the point, babe.”

Insistently, the frown glued to his face, he tugs Dean down and into a kiss. Dean goes, but keeps the kiss chaste.

“Hon,” Cas grumbles in frustration when Dean won’t carry things further.

“Hmm?” he asks innocently as he sits up and puts the massage oil away. Cas watches him intently, but when he closes the drawer, he gets that same frown pointed at him once again.

“Don’t you want to have sex?”

“Nope.”

Knitted brows join the frown, making him twice as adorable. “Why not?”

“Because I just want to hold you tonight.”

“Hold me.”

“Mmmhmm.”

For a moment he looks distinctly uncomfortable, but that quickly morphs into surprise and then...relief, he thinks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, babe.” He blows out the candle, then burrows under the covers and draws Cas to him, making a perfect cocoon with blankets and arms. 

Every breath Cas takes becomes softer, longer, deeper, until his entire body lets go—and with it, whatever doubts Cas must’ve had. He keeps one arm tucked by Dean’s chest while the other one drapes over his waist; he slots his legs with Dean’s. 

“Night, sweetheart. Love you,” Dean whispers into his hair.

“Love you too,” Cas answers, the short syllables fading as he drifts into sleep. 

Dean stays awake for a long time, keeping him safe and relaxed in his arms.

In the morning, Dean’s prepared to give him the same treatment: cuddling as long as they can, making him breakfast, kissing him gently before he goes to work. 

Cas, it seems, has other ideas.

Or that’s what his hand on top of Dean’s cock would suggest.

“Need you, hon,” he murmurs when their eyes meet.

It wasn’t part of the plan, but Dean can work with this. Hell, it’s certainly not a hardship. But he’s doing it right.

“You can have me, babe,” he says, “but let me. Please.”

He shucks off his clothes, since Cas is already naked, then rolls Cas onto his back and spreads out on top of him, letting his full weight pin and ground him. He holds his head and kisses him deeply, every swipe of his tongue a reminder of how much he’s treasured, how important he is, how safe he is to be vulnerable and fall apart if he needs to and that he’s not a bother if he does. Cas moans, grasps Dean around the neck, winds his legs around Dean’s waist, pants and bucks and cries out softly. 

Dean is absorbed in the feel, the taste, the sound of Cas. He wants— _needs_ —to give him everything, to give Cas what he hasn’t had before, to give him what Dean’s never given a lover before because he’s never had a husband, someone he loves so profoundly that he’s willing to spend his life with him and happy to do so, to be with him every day and share food and stories and silence and stress and everything, everything, the exciting and the banal, the good and bad, everything.

He separates breathlessly from Cas’ lips. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he says; he should say _Cal_ but he can’t, somehow, so he says what he can. Dean lubricates two fingers and inserts them into Cas; Cas clutches his shoulders and throws his head back with a gasp and a moan. Dean stares as he opens him. When Cas stares back, Dean washes him in affection once more, pouring all he has into Cas’ mouth. It’s a short time before Cas is begging, pleading for him to fill him, which Dean is more than willing to do because it would have been Dean begging if Cas hadn’t said something first. 

Dean has never made love to Cas. Yes, they’ve had many sexual encounters. Yes, he’s had his cock in him. But really, truly made slow, gentle love, when he penetrated him with feelings and not just body parts, when he showed him just how incredible he is...he hasn’t. Not like this.

Of course, he’s not really Dean, and this isn’t really Cas.

But as he sinks into Cas over and over, as their lips stick and slide with every push, as he gazes into blue, blue eyes his soul has known forever, it’s hard to remember that.

“De—D-dearest, babe, I’m—”

Cas peaks, his body heaving as pleasure overtakes him. Dean is overwhelmed at the sight. He kisses his neck, kisses his jaw, until his own pleasure seizes him, shaking him to his core. 

They kiss once, languidly, before Dean sees the time and swears. Cas _has_ to be at work early today to talk to his dad, and they’re late. They scramble to get ready for work. Because they were sidetracked, they don’t have time to make breakfast or even coffee, so they settle for fruit from the fridge and bottles of water as they dash out the door.

Before they go, Cas stops him. “Thank you for last night and this morning,” he smiles, following it with a lingering kiss. “Have a good day at work, honey pie. Love you.” 

“Love you, sweetheart,” Dean replies, his throat closing at the thought of letting go. “You got this. Go kick some ass at your...uh, work thing today, okay?”

Cas smiles and kisses him again, long and soft, before he leaves with a wave.

To an outsider, they had vanilla sex—some simple kissing and light foreplay that led to penetration. Nothing kinky. Nothing spectacular. Quickie sex on a Thursday morning before work. 

But to Dean, it was so much more. And now, he has to figure that out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Jerky friends, anal sex (the two are not related lol)
> 
> Well, well, well, Dean’s having some Thoughts, isn’t he? 
> 
> Let me know YOUR thoughts!
> 
> Next time: Friends in unexpected places.


	16. Fish to Fry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s good to have friends. 
> 
> No specific tags to mention this time around, just some good times with friends.

_Holy shit. Holy_ **_shit_** _._

Cas drives to work on autopilot, rolling the last twelve hours in his mind.

He should be worrying about his meeting with his father today. He should be worrying about getting his mom some extra help at the house. He should be worrying if he’s going to have a job or whether his family will hate him when this is over.

But all he can think about is Dean. How it felt to have sex with him. How it felt _not_ to have sex with him. How it felt to leave him, knowing he wouldn’t be going home to him.

_We have to stop this_.

Cas parks his car and forces Dean and his feelings out of his mind. He has bigger fish to fry—or at least more immediate ones. 

On the way in, he plans his approach— _So, Dad, seems the guy you call your best friend is a cheating, lying dickbag_ —as he strides into the office. His dad is taking tomorrow off for some of mom’s appointments, so he has to deliver the bad news today. If he waits until next week, who knows what damage Bart could do? He’s pretty sure that Bart suspects something, so he has to act. 

And wouldn’t you know it—Dad isn’t there yet, but the asshole is. “Bartholomew,” he greets him. 

“Castiel, how are you?” he smiles, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “You look well.”

That _has_ to be a lie. He feels significantly looser since his time with Dean, but he’s sure his stress about every aspect of his life is written all over his face.

“Thanks. I had a low-key evening. How are you?”

“Fantastic! Leaving early today. Your dad and I are going golfing. Perfect day to hit the links.”

He’d hardly noticed the weather because there was a storm in his head. He nods, trying to escape as he unlocks the door to his office. Bart follows.

“Castiel, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says as the door closes behind him.

“I’m rather busy. I have a big day—”

“He’s not going to believe you.”

Cas freezes. “Sorry?”

“The numbers are perfectly sound.”

Knowing there’s no point in pretending, Cas replies, “They aren’t, which is why I caught it in the first place.”

“Well, I think you’ll see, if you look in the system, that they are.”

Anger and panic simmering under his skin, he growls, “What did you do?” 

“Just a little adjustment,” Bart smiles. “Fixed a few things. And don’t worry, I made sure your faulty backups were destroyed. Have a good day.” He walks out, smug and swaggering, closing the door without a care in the world as he greets their assistant. 

Castiel rushes to his computer. All of the files, everything he planned to talk to his father about—everything is “fixed” so it looks like there are no problems. And his backups, in his desk when he left last night, are gone, too.

He buries his face in his hands. All his work, vanished. He’s still going to tell his father, but his dad’s a loyal, emotional guy, and he’s not sure he’ll believe him—at least not without the cold, hard facts right in front of him.

“Bart!” he hears his father yell. His father is _not_ a yeller.

He swings open his door just in time to see his father pull Bartholomew into his office, his jacket not even off yet. His father knows. _How does he know?_

“Been watching him watch you for a while now,” Crowley says quietly as he materializes by Cas’ side. 

Cas turns and stares at him, puzzled. “H-how did you—”

Crowley backs him into his office and closes the door.

“I watch. I have ears. You don’t go unnoticed by me, you know. And I suspected something, too, but I wasn’t certain. I only knew that Bart seemed much too interested in you. So, while you and Bart were meeting yesterday, I got into your desk, looked at what you had, and made copies of everything. Then, last night, I called your father at home and asked him to meet me for coffee this morning. He did, and now he knows, and here we are.” 

The knots in his stomach begin to loosen. “What did he say?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone swear so much in my entire bloody life.” He smirks, and despite the situation, Castiel chuckles. “He was angry. Betrayed. Hurt. All that sort of thing. But he didn’t fire me, so that was something. Eventually, he was grateful to have the information about both the company and his so-called friend...and grateful that you discovered it, which I told him once I was certain that no one but Bart was losing their job.”

Cas nods and takes a deep breath, collecting his scattered nerves into a neat little pile. When he does, something occurs to him. “Why would you risk that? Why didn’t you just give me the backups?”

Crowley shrugs. “Better to have them angry with me than you. They’re your family. That’s...sort of important, I suppose.”

Behind the snarky attitude, it seems there’s a good heart that beats in Crowley’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Grinch,” he says with a knowing turn of his lips. 

His co-worker and roommate (and friend, perhaps?) arches a brow at him. “You’re welcome. Well, let’s get on with the day. I suspect we’ll be busy picking up dear Bartholomew’s work for a while.” 

“I guess so.” Cas tucks his hands in his pockets and considers something. “Maybe you can join us for our game night this weekend. Meet Dean. Satisfying your curiosity is the least I can do.”

Crowley folds his arms and shuffles on his feet. “Well, you do owe me. I did you a favor.”

Cas squints. “You _did_ break into my office to do it, though.”

“Details.” He sniffs, then adds, “I suppose I could join your game. I would like to see the fellow who has you all a-flutter, Feathers.”

Smiling because he’s starting to understand Crowley’s odd way of trying to make friends and be included, he replies, “All right, then, Grinch. We’ll talk about it at home.”

“All right. Oh, I gave your father a few names for your mum, some people to help her out. The same people that help Mrs. Baker downstairs from us. Nice woman. Horrible taste in tea.”

With a huff of disbelief, Cas comments, “Well, you’re solving my problems like some kind of fairy godmother.”

“Something like that,” he smirks. “You have one problem you’ll have to solve yourself, though. Your Dean problem.” 

As Crowley leaves, Cas massages his neck. Then, remembering the feel of Dean’s hands doing the same just last night and the tender way he touched him this morning, he stops and sighs.

* * *

Dean is so happy to see Cas, relaxed in his Lacoste alligator lounge pants and a bright yellow tank top featuring a gecko, that he doesn’t care if he gets shit for practically smothering the guy as he hugs him. Cas had called him Thursday afternoon, telling him how things went down with Bart and his father and how his roommate saved the day, and said that he had to work late on Thursday but was leaving on time Friday “come hell or high water” and would be there for their game night. It’s been less than thirty-six hours since he saw him last, but he’s missed him.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt this Hallmark moment,” an accented voice says behind Cas.

It’s their first time meeting, but he has no doubt who this is. “Crowley, I presume,” Dean says, holding out his hand to shake.

“Yes. Charmed.”

His grip is firm—a little too firm—and Dean’s glad when he lets go.

“Come on in, guys.”

“Hey, look who’s here!” Garth calls. “How are ya, Cas? Heard you had a rough go.” He wraps Cas in a hug...a hug that Cas returns warmly. Benny and Sam come over and hug him, too. Dean watches fondly, thinking about what Cas told him about needing to “keep up” and hoping he understands how much these guys like and accept him just as he is.

Lee arrives behind them, so Cas and Crowley move out of the way. Dean slaps his arm in greeting as he takes the twelve-pack he brought, plus the beverages that both Cas and Crowley brought. He slides everything into the fridge, then tucks several bottles for the newcomers into his arms. 

“Here you go, guys,” he says as he deals out the bottles. “Lee, your Coors, Crowley, a bottle of whatever this shit is, and Cas, a new brew for us.” He holds up two bottles from a local microbrewery. Cas’ eyes light up. 

“I’ve been wanting to try this,” Cas says enthusiastically as he takes one of the bottles.

“I know. That’s why I bought it.”

Softly, he smiles. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Welcome,” he replies, hoping to any deity listening that he doesn’t look as dopey as he feels. He rubs his face.

“Hey, I brought enough to share, man. You don’t gotta drink the fancy shit,” Lee says to Dean, elbowing him. 

“Eh, I’ve grown partial to the fancy shit, honestly. Thanks, though.” He turns to the rest of his guests. “Well, let’s play, shall we?”

They shuffle to the sunroom. Chairs are scraped across the floor as people find their seats. Dean isn’t fast enough to snag a chair next to Cas—Crowley’s on one side and Lee’s on the other, which is odd—so he sits between Benny and Garth.

Talk is game-focused for a while, but eventually turns to their weekend plans. Cas has been so busy and stressed that they haven’t talked about roleplays for the weekend at all...and since they just had one Wednesday night, maybe they won’t do anything. It feels a whole lot worse than it should.

“So no Gertie this weekend, right, Garth? What are you guys doing?” Sam asks with a smile. 

“Something really fun!” Garth grins in his usual way. “A fish fry!”

“A fish fry?” Crowley asks, brow arched. “This is a fun activity?”

“Sure is! It’s a seafood festival, actually, but we’re going for the fried fish ‘cause my wife Bess is pregnant and she’s craving it like crazy. Oh, that reminds me. Dean, Cas, Bess and I wanted to invite you two to come with us!”

Something about that sentence makes Dean break into a sweat—a good sweat or a bad sweat, he hasn’t decided yet. “Um, us?”

“Yeah!”

He’s never been invited to do “couple” things before—probably because he’s never been part of a couple before. Not that this is a couple thing. But it sort of is. “Uh, Cas, you wanna go?”

Cas shrugs his shoulders, casual as can be. “Sure.” He sips at his beer.

“Uh, okay then, we’re in,” Dean says to Garth, trying hard to be as casual as Cas is being and failing miserably (internally, at least).

“Great!”

A few minutes pass by, in which all Dean can think of is _Cas and I are going with another couple and doing a couple thing what’s it mean holy shit_ when Lee nonchalantly asks, “So, you made time for your other buddies. How ‘bout goin’ out with me tomorrow night?”

Dean hesitates. He knows what he wants to say— _No, thanks, I’m hoping to convince Cas to stay after we’re done being a couple for the day except we won’t be a couple we’re just going as friends but fuck it I still want him to stay_ —but he also feels sort of guilty. “Uh, where do you wanna go?”

Lee brightens. “I figure we can swing back to our old stomping grounds. Do a little mixin’, you know?” 

Anger begins to simmer under Dean’s skin. He _told_ him he wouldn’t do that to Cas. Remembering his refusal to go to the club last time and the silence and funny looks he got, though, he reconsiders. It’s just a club. He’s in control of what he does there, and he’s not going to hook up. 

And of course, Cas could go with them…“Yeah, I guess. You wanna go, Cas?”

Cas fidgets with his cards. “Um, well, thank you, but I wasn’t invited.”

“Of course you’re invited. Isn’t he, Lee?” 

“Free country,” Lee mutters before taking a swig of beer.

Dean frowns. That’s no way for him to treat Cas. “Dude, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“Dean—” 

“I’m not being a jerk about it. I said he could come.”

“But it’s the _way_ you said it.”

“Dean, really—”

“How do you want me to say it?”

“I don’t know, maybe less jerky?”

“ _Dean,_ ” Cas says loudly.

Dean turns. “What ba—uh, what, what, what is it?” He wipes his hands against his shorts, hoping to hell that Cas didn’t catch that near-slip.

“I don’t need to go. I’ll probably have work to do on Saturday night, anyway.”

“Cas, you can’t burn yourself out.”

“I know, but it’s temporary. Besides, I’ll have you most of the day. Hang out with Lee. It’s been a while.”

It _has_ been a while, Dean admits to himself. Lee’s been a prick lately, but maybe they just need to spend some time together. “All right.”

Lee smiles, Cas smiles, and Dean smiles, though he’s already regretting saying yes because the smile on Cas’ face feels as fake as his own.

* * *

“I fuckin’ love food festivals!” Dean says to Cas in delight as he plunks down more cash to feast on ceviche. 

“No kidding,” Cas smirks, nudging him and asking for a bite of Dean’s treat. Dean obliges him.

“Bess and I love them, too,” Garth agrees. “What’s better than eating in the great outdoors, supporting locals?”

“Eating in the great outdoors with a beer,” Bess grumbles, looking longingly at Cas’ brew.

Cas chuckles. “As soon as you can have one, Bess, I’ll buy.”

“It’s a deal.” She grins and they bump fists. 

Dean smiles at them both affectionately. He’s kind of in love with their burgeoning friendship.

They chat amiably as they make their way toward the smell of fried clams. Dean is as happy as one, hanging out with Cas and their friends on a gorgeous, sunny day. The mood is light and comfortable.

And then, things get a little complicated.

“Dan! Cal!” someone calls. It’s Cain, along with Colette, and they’re coming their way much too fast to avoid them. “Dan, Cal, good to see you,” Cain says, shaking their hands. “What a glorious day, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Cas says. He introduces Bess and Garth, who thankfully make no efforts to correct the apiarists about their names. 

“We’ve been using the honey like crazy,” Dean says, hoping that they sound coupley enough to appease Cain and Colette without sounding coupley enough to arouse Garth and Bess’ suspicions.

“They’re darling, aren’t they?” Colette says to Bess. “They visited our apiary and poor Dan was so nervous about the bees! Cal held his hand the entire time. Such a lovely couple.”

_So much for that._

“They are,” Bess smiles, her eyes twinkling when she catches Dean’s eye.

“Yes. Well, we don’t want to keep you, we just wanted to say hello.” Colette takes Cain’s hand. “Cain promised me shrimp. Try the fish tacos at that stand over there—they’re made with our honey.” They smile and wave as they walk away, Colette leading and Cain happy to be led.

It makes Dean’s heart ache.

“Soooo...Dan and Cal, huh?” Bess bites her lip, doing a poor job of hiding her mirth.

“Not a word of that to _anyone_ ,” Cas warns her, though it sounds more like a plea.

She grabs both Dean and Cas by the arm and leans in, whispering, “We’re Dolph and Tala.”

The four burst into laughter, the awkwardness dissipated.

“You went to their apiary for your vanilla roleplay, I assume?” Bess asks. 

A bit embarrassed, Dean admits, “The farmers’ market...and the apiary another time.”

Expecting a razzing, Dean’s relieved when they simply smile.

“You know,” Garth says, “there’s a lot of folks here from the farmers’ market. If you think you’re gonna run into people who know you from there, you might want to act like a couple. At least until we leave.”

It won’t lead to sex. It’s not for comfort. It’s just...being a couple. For pretend. And it’ll be over as soon as they get back to the car. 

But when they spend the rest of their time hand-in-hand, Dean’s completely okay with that.

Even if Garth and Bess call them Dan and Cal all damn day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, they have some good friends! (And maybe a questionable one?) 
> 
> A very Merry Christmas to you and yours if you celebrate! 
> 
> Next time: Our boys ask themselves what’s real.


	17. What’s Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! 🎉
> 
> So last time, many of you had something to say about Lee. I’ll be curious to know your thoughts this time. 
> 
> Tags at the end if you feel you need them! ❤️

Dean reluctantly parted with Cas after the festival and a light dinner. Cas told him to have a great time tonight. Dean told him he’d try. 

Cas seemed kind of blue, though, and it hurt to let him leave like that. He said it was because he was going home to deal with work on a Saturday night. Dean tried once again to convince him to go with them instead, but he said he wasn’t in the mood. He even offered to cancel and stay with him, just for moral support. Cas told him he appreciated it but Dean would be bored stiff and he would likely collapse in bed once he’s done his work, so Dean shouldn’t cancel his plans just for him. Knowing he’d had a hard week and maybe just needed some time to himself, he let it go.

Now, he’s brushing his teeth and studying himself in the mirror, feeling blue himself. What’s happened to him? There was a time when he’d be thrilled to be going out to have a little fun. Tonight, he’d rather stay home. He still likes to have fun, but his idea of fun has...expanded.

He finishes his teeth, rakes his fingers through his hair, and sighs.

Lee meets him at their usual spot, looking as effortlessly put-together as he always does when they go out—unlike Cas, who sticks to the same jeans and black t-shirt combo every time because he thinks he’ll “scare people away with my fashion sense” otherwise. Dean used to laugh at that. Now it makes him sad, knowing Cas never felt like he could be accepted as himself. Of course, he has some great outfits now...outfits that maybe he’ll wear here when—

“Hey, there he is!” Lee shouts, breaking into his thoughts. He folds him into a bro hug—slap on the back, space in the middle. It’s nice, though they’re nothing like Cas’ hugs, which always feel like he’s hugging you with his body _and_ his soul. He and Lee don’t really hug, though, so maybe there’s a little awkwardness there. Dean appreciates the effort anyway. Even if Lee’s been a bit of an ass recently, he likes the guy. He’s always known how to have a good time.

They pay the cover and move inside, where the music is loud and the alcohol is flowing. Lee’s handing him a beer before he even gets a chance to look at what’s on tap. Dean flashes him a quick smile and takes a sip. He’s pretty sure it’s Bud. He grimaces. 

“Well howdy, stranger!” Pam calls, sashaying their way and planting a kiss on Dean’s cheek when she reaches them. “What’ve you been up to? And where’s Cas?”

“Just us tonight,” Lee answers for him, an arm around his shoulders. 

“Well, all right! Fresh crop, fellas, come on.” 

Pam leads them to her table, where some of the other regulars are sitting—Aaron, Ash, Maddie—as well as a few new faces. The regulars greet him with warm familiarity, while the others welcome him as if _he’s_ the newcomer. And, well, he sort of is. He certainly doesn’t feel like the same person he was the last time he was here...what, five months ago now? He’s shocked at how much time has passed, and even more shocked that he hasn’t missed this place at all.

He catches up with his old friends and gets to know his new ones. It’s fun, for a while. Lee slaps him on the back a lot and keeps his glass filled. Soon, he feels himself loosening up...and with that loosening up, he realizes he’s missing the piece that keeps his rattling parts tied together. 

Eventually, no longer able to tolerate the noise in his mind, he pulls out his phone and texts Cas:

_Dean 10:22pm: You shud come down_

_Cas 10:23pm: I’m in my pjs_

_Dean 10:23pm: Which ones_

_Cas 10:23pm: The naked ones._

He knows what naked Cas looks like.

_Dean 10:24pm: Sorry I’m missin that_

As soon as he hits the send button, he knows he screwed up. What the hell? They aren’t roleplaying. He’s getting messed up in the head with the alcohol...or, maybe, with this thing-that’s-not-a-thing.

_Cas 10:25pm: You should be._

Dean huffs a relieved chuckle. _God, he’s cute._

“Hey,” Lee says, “let’s go mingle.”

“You go ahead,” Dean says, but Lee won’t have any of it.

“Dude, you’re here to have a good time and meet people, not play on your phone,” and before he can protest that he’s here to have a good time but not to meet people, Lee and Pam pull him out of his seat and lead him to the dance floor.

He’s never liked dancing (that one time with “Cal” the exception), so he feels completely ridiculous being out here now. 

“C’mon, get into it, man,” Lee encourages him, shaking his shoulders. 

“I’m not into dancing, you know that,” he whines.

“It won’t kill you to have a little fun. You’re not hurtin’ anybody. C’mon. I’m your friend, too, man—party with me.” He hands him a shot that Maddie got for them.

Guilt squirms in his belly. He hasn’t spent much time with Lee recently—something that even Cas pointed out to him—so he resolves to have a good time. 

He drinks.

He dances.

He smiles when Lee points out attractive women.

But none of it feels like a good time.

He fakes it anyway, for Lee’s sake.

Several songs and another shot or two later, he leaves the floor and heads for the bar, where he gets a bottle of water to wash the shitty taste out of his mouth and, maybe, work on sobering up. Feeling lonely despite all the people around, he texts Cas again. Delighted when he eventually answers, Dean messages him until someone taps him on the shoulder.

It’s Lee, pressing another beer into Dean’s space. “C’mon, drink up!”

Dean’s already tipsy—drunk, really—but he swears his friend’s trying to get him wasted. He takes a few sips anyway as Lee prattles on loudly for what feels like forever about...something. He can’t really follow and doesn’t want to—he’s more interested in his text chat with Cas. He tunes him out until Lee says, “See? Right there, Dean.” 

Dean follows Lee’s finger as he points to some women nearby. “Blondie’s interested in you.”

“Interested? She doesn’t even know my name, dude.”

“Don’t gotta know your name, man.” He nudges him, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “C’mon. We could get outta here, have ourselves a good ol’ time.”

Dean blinks, then frowns. Before this thing with Cas, Dean would’ve jumped on the opportunity. Attractive woman, willing (he assumes; he hasn’t actually _talked_ to her to gauge that), no strings. The cap to a great night. But now…“Nah, man. I’m good.”

Lee stares at him, mouth agape, before his face twists into disgust. “What’s your problem?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I mean you’re not yourself. You used to be fun. You don’t do anything fun anymore.”

Dean frowns, brows knitting together. “I do plenty of fun things.”

“You mean the dumbass shit you’ve been doin’ with your ‘special friend’? Beehives? Food festivals? _Roleplay_?”

Affronted, Dean grits his teeth and warns, “Hey, watch it.” 

“Watch what? Callin’ you out about the stupid things you’re doin’ right now, things you made fun of the other guys for doin’ months ago? Or sayin’ shit about your precious _Cas_?”

Dean stands from his stool and points a finger at his friend’s chest. “You’d better check your damn mouth.”

“Haven’t you worked out your shit yet? That’s what all that roleplay was for, right? Get you out of your rut?” 

“That’s our business.”

“Get with the program, Dean,” he scoffs. “If it hasn’t worked by now, it ain’t gonna, so give it up.”

“It’s working just _fine._ ”

“You’d be on your way to gettin’ busy right now if him bein’ your whore was really workin’—”

“Hey, _fuck_ you!” He steps closer to Lee on wobbly feet, nearly toe-to-toe with the man.

“That’s what he is! Your fuck buddy!”

“Don’t call him that! And why do you care, anyway?”

“I care ‘cause you ain’t you, that’s why!”

“The fuck?”

“You’re not. This thing with Cas, it’s changing you, making you someone you’re not, and the sad thing is, you seem happy about it. Don’t you get it, you dumb son of a bitch? It ain’t real! None of it is real!”

Lee hasn’t been there when he’s been with Cas—when they’ve laughed together, when they’ve held each other, when they’ve made love, when they’ve done nothing special at all. It _is_ real. It _has_ to be, he thinks desperately. Sneering and so full of anger and fear that his fists clench, he growls, “I _am_ happy about it. And me ‘n’ Cas, what we’ve done is more real than anything I’ve ever had, so fuck off.”

“Oh, Dean, you stupid asshole. You went and fell in love with the dream, didn’t you?” He eyes him with pity, then with scrutiny. “Or maybe it wasn’t the dream you fell in love with. Shit, Dean, were you actually stupid enough to think he ain’t usin’ you? Did you actually fall—”

The voice Dean’s wanted to hear all night interrupts them, shouting over the noise of the club. “What’s going on? Dean, are you okay?”

Dean pushes himself past Lee and into Cas’ chest, looping his arms around him and basking in his warmth and his clean scent. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Cas asks, cradling his head. Dean nods, sighing into the scratching of Cas’ fingers in his hair. “Okay. Hit the bathroom first, though, all right? I don’t need you puking or pissing in my car.”

“Thing’s a piece of shit anyway,” he jokes, relaxed for the first time all night. He earns a pinch to his side that makes him smile.

“Go,” Cas commands with a small laugh, turning him in the direction of the bathroom.

He goes, relieves himself, and meets Cas in the hall, who shoves a water bottle in his hand. “Drink. I’m taking you home.”

“’Kay,” Dean murmurs, feeling safe and secure tucked into Cas’ side.

* * *

If Lee were a real friend to Dean, he would’ve been looking out for him instead of letting him get drunk. If he were a real friend, he wouldn’t have picked a fight (he just _knows_ Lee started it somehow). If he were a real friend, they could’ve gone somewhere quiet and talked out whatever’s been going on between them recently. 

Instead, Cas got text messages:

_Dean 11:01pm: Cme down_

_Dean 11:01pm: We cn dance_

_Cas 11:10pm: Are you okay?_

_Dean 11:10pm: Misu_

_Dean 11:10pm: Com dwn_

_Dean 11:10pm: Ths beer sux_

_Dean 11:11pm: Urs is btr_

_Dean 11:11pm: I ht dancn_

_Cas 11:11pm: Are you drunk?_

_Dean 11:11pm: Ya_

_Cas 11:12pm: Are you okay?_

_Cas 11:13pm: Are. You. Okay._

_Cas 11:13pm: Dean?_

_Cas 11:14pm: I’m worried. Is Lee with you?_

_Cas 11:19pm: I’m coming to see you. Be there soon._

When Cas arrived, Dean looked remarkably more put-together than his texts suggested. He thinks that may have been the adrenaline, the conflict Cas walked in on temporarily providing some semblance of false sobriety.

When Dean collapsed against him, though, it was clear he was intoxicated.

He sent him to the bathroom, then argued with Lee:

_“What the fuck?”_

_“The hell are you doing here, Castiel?”_

_“I got worried about Dean when he stopped answering texts. Why’d you let him get so fucked up?”_

_“Just tryin’ to loosen the stick up his ass!”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“I’m talking about the shit you’re doin’! Stop fucking with his head with this roleplay shit and let him have his life back! It ain’t real!”_

_“I’m not doing anything! And stay the fuck out of our business!”_

_“I’m gonna be in your business ‘cause he’s my_ **_friend_** _, asshole, and I’m gonna look out for ‘im. You ain’t done nothin’ but tried to make him someone he’s not. Fuckin’ beehives and skippin’ game nights and your shitty beer. He’s not like you. Stop tryin’ to change him, you fuckin’ weirdo.”_

The epithet hurt a little, but it wasn’t as if he’d never heard it before.

_“I’ve never held a gun to his head. People change. People try things they haven’t before, and sometimes they like them. Friends let their friends grow and change and they don’t get threatened by it. ‘Cause that’s what this is, isn’t it? You feel threatened. And you don’t have to. You’re one of his best friends.”_

_Lee shook his head and folded his arms. “Your jealousy’s showin’.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“You just couldn’t stand it, him bein’ here, knowin’ he was havin’ a good time.”_

_“He didn’t look like he was having a good time. You guys were fighting.”_

_“About you, because he won’t tell you he wants to be free.”_

_“Free from what? He_ **_is_ ** _free.”_

_“Not at long as you’re keepin’ him from bein’ himself.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_“I’m talkin’ about him hookin’ up with someone who ain’t you. He was about to go off with Mikayla right there, in fact.”_

He pointed out a blonde woman looking their way. Cas’ heart stuttered. It was a misunderstanding, he thought. Dean wouldn’t do that...would he?

_“He told me not to tell you, though. Felt all ‘guilty.’ I told him he should just tell you he wants to stop this shit with you, but he said no ‘cause he didn’t wanna hurt your little feelings.”_

His heart dropped as if sucker-punched. It had to be a misunderstanding. Or a lie. He was lying.

“ _But you knew he’d end up with someone, didn’t you? ‘Cause that’s who he is, and you knew being here with me would remind him of that—”_

_“That’s not who he is!”_

_“Years of hookups would prove you wrong, wouldn’t they? Playin’ make-believe for a few months don’t amount to a hill’a beans. Tigers don’t change their stripes, my friend, and you know it. So you came ridin’ in on your white horse to save him from big, bad me and the big, bad club. Talk about feelin’ threatened. Nobody asked you here.”_

That no one asked him there was technically true. Cas pressed on, though, pushing his feelings down as the desire to prove Lee wrong drove him. 

_“Well, he came running for me, didn’t he? And I asked him right in front of you if he wanted to leave, and he said yes. You saw it.”_

_“Of course he’s gonna go with you. He’s gonna do whatever you want because he feels bad for your pathetic ass! All you do is hold him back. You’ve always held him back.”_

Seeing Dean exit the bathroom, Cas walked away without a rebuttal. He intercepted Dean, handed him some water he brought with him, and took him home—Cas’ home, which was closer and thus limited the chances of Dean vomiting in his vehicle (which is _not_ a piece of shit, thank you).

Now, the full effect of Dean’s drinking is manifesting itself. His limbs are loose and heavy, both from the alcohol and from dozing off in the car, and it’s making it difficult to get him into the apartment. He wishes he didn’t live on the second floor. “Just a little more, hon,” he says, then mentally slaps himself. Thankfully, Dean doesn’t seem to notice his slip, too busy concentrating on his footing.

They stumble through the door with a little help from Crowley, who opens it as Cas is digging his keys from his pocket. Crowley raises his brows.

“Don’t ask,” Cas grumbles.

Crowley chuckles, but says nothing.

Cas guides him to his room. Despite his floppy limbs, he manages to get Dean’s shoes, socks, and pants off him, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt, which is good enough. He makes him drink more water and take some medicine, then gently lowers him—or tries to, but his landing is more of a heavy _whoomp_ into the pillow.

Dean reaches for him, managing to snatch the right leg of his sweatpants. 

“What?” Cas asks with a tiny huff of amusement.

“Can we...do the thing?”

_The thing._ He’s almost certain he knows what “the thing” is—roleplay sex, though what sort of roleplay he could do in this state is questionable. His emotions about having sex are mixed, his concern for his friend warring with the irrational need to assert his claim on what isn’t actually his to begin with. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says softly.

Dean pouts. It’s heartbreakingly adorable.

“Stop that.”

Dean pouts harder.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to do anything but sleep. Lie still,” Cas orders him gently, grabbing but not removing Dean’s other hand that’s found its way to his sweats.

“Wanna do the thing.”

“Mmm, no ‘thing’ tonight.”

“Please? No sex, I just...need...a husband.” His voice cracks on the last word. 

Cas’ breath catches. 

Dean’s drunk and exhausted, Cas knows, and maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but his glassy, pleading eyes are fighting to stay open as he waits for an answer. A surge of fondness and something deeper makes his knees—and the rest of him—weak. Dean was there for him when he was having a shitty time. Dean trusts him, is being vulnerable with him, needs the same sort of comfort he gave so willingly and completely to him just days ago. 

Cas climbs into bed and wraps him in a warm embrace. Dean clings to him, exhaling stuttered breaths. “Shh. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

They lie quietly, Cas raking his fingers through his hair. After a while, Dean pulls back. Their eyes meet. “Stay?”

With a tiny huff of amusement (where’s he going to go?), Cas replies, “Well, yeah. Duh.” 

Dean smiles, slow and sleepy. “You’re a child,” he mumbles.

“And you drive me crazy.”

He hums, snuggling closer. Cas gives him a squeeze.

“Hey,” Dean utters after a while. He’s barely audible, clearly on the edge of slumber. 

“Hmm?”

“You...think it’s...real…”

Cas swallows, making circles on Dean’s shoulder as he grapples with the question and everything Lee told him tonight. He can’t be sure _exactly_ what Dean’s asking—he could be hallucinating aliens right now, for all he knows—or even whether it’s a question or a statement. But instead of asking him to clarify, he stalls, continuing the lazy pattern from his shoulder down to his arm until Dean’s breath evens out a short moment later. 

_Yes_ , he thinks as he presses his lips together hard. _It’s real. For me._

_And that’s why we can’t do this anymore._

* * *

“So, how’s your boy this morning?”

“Shut it,” Cas mutters as Crowley smiles with all the innocence of the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

“He overdid it, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Cas answers as he tends to the French toast on the stovetop. “Went out to the club and had a few too many.”

“I’m surprised.” When Cas arches a brow, Crowley continues, “You all used to do that together, but you haven’t gone in a while now, and I was under the impression it was the same for him.”

“It was, but Lee wanted him to go.”

“Yet he came home with you.”

“He wanted to leave.”

“He wanted to leave with you.”

“No, he just felt like shit and when I asked him if he wanted to leave, he said yes.”

“So you’re saying when he’s at his lowest and wants to feel better, he goes with you. Interesting.”

Cas turns off the burner and sets the toast aside, then slices bananas as a topping—the potassium is good for hangovers. “It’s not like that,” he huffs, because he can’t leave Crowley’s “interesting” unaddressed.

“Seems like it is.” 

“Crowley, I swear to—”

A figure shuffles into the kitchen. “Hey,” Dean mumbles, smacking his lips. 

Grateful to be saved from Crowley’s...whatever he was doing, Cas points to the coffee maker. “It’s fresh.”

“You’re a fuckin’ lifesaver, sweetheart,” Dean moans as he shuffles to the counter. 

“Sweetheart?” Crowley smirks.

Cas freezes.

Dean freezes.

“He calls everyone that,” Cas tries while Dean simultaneously blurts, “It’s a bi thing.”

Crowley pounces on Dean’s explanation. “It’s a bi thing?”

“Sure. You know, finger guns, cuffed jeans, calling everyone sweetheart. It’s a thing.”

Cas maintains his poker face, but inside he’s both mortified and amused at Dean’s response. He’d totally harass the shit out of Dean for it if the situation wasn’t so awkward. Crowley, to his credit, merely smirks and nods.

“Breakfast,” Cas mutters, hoping to divert this train from a fiery collision. It works, thankfully, Dean sitting and Crowley wiggling his fingers as he leaves.

Later, over coffee and the remnants of breakfast, Dean smiles and says, “Thanks for taking care of me. I must’ve been a shitshow, huh?”

“A little,” Cas smiles back, though his usual joy in Dean’s presence is muted. He’s glad—but not really—that he was able to squirm out of Dean’s octopus hold this morning, the excuse of making him a hangover cure at the ready but not needed since Dean didn’t stir. He doesn’t seem to remember much and hasn’t called him an endearment or tried to hug him or anything else since Crowley left the apartment, so maybe the “sweetheart” thing was just a joke and he doesn’t remember asking to be “husbanded” last night. 

Which begs the question…“What do you remember?”

“Fighting with Lee,” he grumbles. “You coming to get me. That’s about it. Ugh, he made me dance.” He shudders exaggeratedly. 

“God forbid.”

“Right? I only dance with hot strangers.” He throws Cas a wink.

It’s the perfect segue to the talk they need to have about cutting this thing off, but he can’t go there yet—not when Dean is sleep-rumpled and adorable and absolutely perfect.

Dean pounds his chest until he belches, then blows it out on a stream of breath.

_Almost_ perfect and _mostly_ adorable. “Classy.”

“That’s me,” Dean grins as he hiccups. “Ugh, I think everything from last night wants out.” He stands.

“I really didn’t need details,” Cas grouses.

“I didn’t give you details...yet!” Dean shouts as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Yet,” he mutters, picking up their plates.

Cas spends his time considering how to bring up their roleplays, or maybe the things that Lee said last night, then decides he needs to put his shit aside for a minute (because it’s totally his shit, he owns that) and check in with Dean about the fight. _He_ may not like Lee all that much, but Dean does.

“So, the fight you had with Lee,” Cas starts when Dean returns.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Dean shrugs. “He was just bein’ a dick.”

“About?”

Dean shrugs again. He clearly doesn't want to talk, which makes Cas even more uncomfortable than he was last night when he was ruminating about it endlessly. 

“You can talk to me about it, you know.”

“I know, I just...don’t really wanna, honestly.”

Cas nods, his nerves jangled. He thought Lee was being untruthful, but it sounds like maybe he was telling the truth if Dean wants to hide whatever they were arguing about. He’s beginning to feel a little sick. He takes a deep breath and says, “Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here to listen. No matter what.”

“Yeah. You’re always there.” Dean smiles crookedly and bumps Cas’ chin with his fist. “Thanks.”

Dean’s affection feels so confusing, though it shouldn’t. They’re friends. Friends who let each other be themselves and, more importantly, don’t hold each other back. 

“Tell ya what I do want to talk about, though. Our next roleplay.” His warm grin turns wicked. “You wanna be my pizza man?”

This is the moment when he should be saying _Actually, I think it’s time to end this_. But when he looks at Dean, he can’t. Not just yet. 

_One more can’t hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Angst, deceit, alcohol intoxication
> 
> So...that could’ve gone better, hmm?
> 
> Next time: One more can’t hurt...or can it?


	18. Food for Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Lots of excitement last time! This time can't be nearly as exciting or angsty, right? They're just having pizza. *whistles*
> 
> Tags for this chapter in the end notes if you feel you need them.

Cas has pretended every day since last weekend that his heart hasn’t been breaking. That his guts haven’t been churning like a storm-tossed sea. That his skin fits him just fine, thank you.

None of it is true, of course.

But none of it has been, he reminds himself as he dresses in a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. It’s all been fake. Roleplay. Pretend. So why not pretend a little more?

He sweats, clutching the wheel tightly as he drives to their new pizza place—the place that married couple Dan and Cal like. Turns out Dean and Cas like it, too, and despite how it pains him to even think about how their past roleplays led them there, he’s not about to let go of a good pizza place. 

As he drives, he rolls over the same words that have been playing on repeat in his brain— _he won’t tell you he wants to be free, he’s not like you, stop tryin’ to change him, you fuckin’ weirdo, he was about to go off with Mikayla, he feels bad for your pathetic ass, all you do is hold him back._ He sighs.

Dean’s not like him, that he knows. They’re opposites in many ways. But they also share many of the same views and values about life. They’ve influenced each other over the years, too, and they’ve bent to each other’s neuroses and particularities from time to time, creating a balance that’s kept them close. Even when Dean drives him crazy, he’s never wanted him to be anyone but himself.

And because he wants him to be himself, he’s never tried to hold him back. He _knows_ he hasn’t. He’s always given him freedom to do whatever he wants. Not that freedom was his to give. Freedom was Dean’s whether Cas “gave” it to him or not. _Maybe I_ ** _have_** _been possessive of him in our friendship. I wanted to “assert my claim” on him, for fuck’s sake!_ _Maybe I really have held him back._ But no. No. Even when Dean was making other choices and other friends that took him further away from him, he never tried to make him be someone else or do something else. 

And as far as hooking up with someone who’s not him...well. Dean isn’t his. He can be with whoever he wants, and given that Cas is... _Cas_ , he doesn’t exactly blame Dean for wanting someone more his type, someone he’d be attracted to in real life, not just in a roleplay. He gets it. Sort of.

Still, he can’t help but have a few feelings about it that are less than charitable and understanding. He’s trying, he really is, but he’s hurt. 

He just wants to know _why_. He’s tried to follow some sort of logical line of thought, given everything he knows (or thought he knew) about Dean and their relationship (friendship), and he only ends up tangled. None of it makes any damn _sense_. 

He shakes his head and grips the steering wheel tighter.

Maybe Dean didn’t feel like he could talk to him about it because he’s so damn pathetic and transparent? Maybe that was the whole _feeling bad_ for him thing that Lee was talking about? Or maybe he got too drunk to know what he was doing. Or maybe, possibly, there’s a chance that Lee really was lying about the whole thing and Dean didn’t want to tell him about their conversation for some other reason. It’s a thought Cas tries not to have, because it gives him way too much hope.

Hope would be better than what he has now. But false hope is even worse than facing the reality of a situation.

In the end, though, none of it matters, because the true heart of the problem is that he’s in love with Dean and has been since before all this business. He’d done pretty well suppressing it over the last couple (or more) years, keeping himself hovering over the canyon of his feelings by his fingers and toes. But once they talked about his art, once Dean said all those wonderful things about him, once they shared the emotional as well as the physical intimacy of the last several roleplays, he couldn’t help but let himself fall. 

Yet this mess and their arrangement drive home the fact that all of their intimacy, all of their domesticity...it’s not real. It’s not love. It’s not the vanilla life that Cas has yearned for. Because yes, despite his denials, Cas wants vanilla. But Dean doesn’t, as he’s said repeatedly over the years, so it doesn’t make sense for this to continue.

Cas loves Dean. 

He’s enjoyed their sexual play.

But he wants more.

_This_ **_has_ ** _to be the last roleplay._

He picks up the pizza.

On his way back, he breathes and makes himself smile, encouraging himself to let go of all of the feelings he’s had over the week. None of it matters. This is the last roleplay, and he’s going to enjoy it, damn it.

He gets into the mindset of the horny pizza man who knows just what he’s getting into when he goes to visit the hot guy who’s well-known for knocking boots with his delivery people. Or his delivery _women_ , which Cas— _Cal_ —planned to change. They had decided to be complete strangers rather than regulars, which was the only way Cas would consider after everything last weekend and all the feelings that came up for him. Of course, he didn’t tell Dean any of that. He simply said that they hadn’t been strangers in a while and it would be “hot.” 

Once at Dean’s— _Dan’s_ —he rolls his shoulders. _This is good. I’m fine. All is well._ _One more hot, meaningless round of sex before the curtain falls and we go back to the way we were._

He knocks.

Dean answers. Shirtless. He acts surprised at seeing Cas at first, then looks him up and down appraisingly, smiling when their eyes meet again. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Cas says breathily, purposefully biting his bottom lip. “Uh, how ya doin’?”

“Good. You’re new.”

“Yeah. You’re not, though. You order from us every Friday.”

“That’s right.” He huffs a tiny, proud smile as he says, “So you’ve heard of me?”

Cas shrugs. “Here and there. You’re a loyal customer.”

Dean nods. “Well, when I find something I like, I stick with it.”

In this case, the thing he sticks with is pizza, not a person. It stings in the most absurd way. “Well, I do hear you enjoy pizza.”

“Oh, yeah. I sure do. All kinds of pizza. But what I really enjoy are the fine people who deliver it.”

“Hmm, yes. I’ve heard you’ve enjoyed _many_ of our fine delivery drivers.”

Dean shifts and rubs his neck, but doesn’t say anything in response. It starts to feel awkward, so Cas, shoving down the twisting feeling in his gut at the thought of Dean ( _Dan,_ damn it) with other “delivery drivers,” speaks up.

“Well, I’m new with the company, and I wanted to personally meet and thank such a loyal customer of ours.”

That seems to snap Dean back to the scene. Licking his lips, he asks hopefully, “Personally?”

Cas pushes Dean backwards into the house, the pizza box between them, and slams the door closed with his foot. “ _Personally_. I mean, if you don’t mind a personal thank you from a delivery driver who’s...not who you expected.”

Dean shakes his head, eyeing him up and down again. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Good.” 

And with that, Cas drops the box and himself to the floor. He yanks Dean’s sweatpants down and finds no underwear to get in his way. “I can see why all the girls wanted to come here,” he purrs, then swallows Dean’s cock down. Dean cries out in pleasure.

“Couch,” Cas rasps after he’s given Dean a taste of just why he’s better than all of his delivery co-workers.

Dean shuffles to the couch, sweatpants still around his ankles, while Cas pushes the coffee table out of the way. When he’s settled in, Cas pulls Dean’s sweatpants off and folds them haphazardly, then kneels on them and goes right back to work.

Cas swirls and slurps, knowing this will be the last time and wanting to remember the taste and weight of Dean’s cock on his tongue (which could make their casual sports-watching nights on this very couch a little tough, but whatever). He hums around the head and strokes his shaft, eliciting the most gorgeous moans from his best...customer. He cups his balls as he takes him as far as he can, his eyes prickling as he gags himself a bit.

“Oh God, oh, oh please,” Dean whispers. 

It sounds like he’s getting too far, too fast. Cas pops off his penis for a moment. “Hold on, your customer appreciation isn’t done,” he says, then reaches into his “delivery bag” (an old soft-sided computer bag) for flavored lube. He coats a finger, then circles Dean’s hole, making him whimper. When he’s teased him for a bit, he presses his fingertip in. 

Dean clutches the cushions below him.

“Bet the others didn’t do this for you, did they?” he says, then licks and sucks at his cock for a minute as he plays with him. “Bet they didn’t do this for you, either,” he says next, pulling him down toward him until his ass is hanging over the edge of the couch, then diving into a rim job he’s confident Dean will enjoy. He’s falling out of character, perhaps—would the pizza guy really rim a guy he just met, unprotected, knowing he has a history of being promiscuous?—but hell, if this is it, he’s doing everything he can. And there’s something selfish in there, too, something dark that he pushes away.

“N-no...puh, pl-uh, fuck…”

“Didn’t think they did,” he mutters against his skin. 

A few minutes later, Dean thoroughly debauched, Cas stands and slips out of his clothes, taking a condom from his jeans before tossing them away. Shoving Dean back, he rolls it down his cock. He takes out the plug he put in before he left his apartment, then straddles Dean and takes his cock inside of him with a bit of determined effort, tension and stress tightening his otherwise loose hole. “And did the girls do this for you?” he asks when he’s settled. “Take you in their asses like this?”

“No,” Dean answers, his breathing shallow and rapid. 

“I didn’t think so,” he says, his hands perched on Dean’s shoulders as he slams down and makes them both cry out—Dean in pleasure and Cas mostly so. 

Cas keeps up a mindless, relentless rhythm, grabbing Dean’s hands and trapping them by his head when he tries to move them onto him. When he struggles, Cas holds him fast.

“Wanna touch you,” Dean pants.

“Why? Wanna see if I feel different than all the titties that swing in your face on pizza night?”

Dean’s face is both puzzled and aroused. “No, I—I wanna make you feel good.”

“Do you? Huh, and here I thought all Dan the Hot Pizza Man wanted was to get off.”

He shakes his head. “I like you. Want you to feel good, too.”

“You don’t know me enough to like me. And I don’t need you to make me feel good. I can do that all by myself.”

Dean groans. “Please, man.”

Cas snorts. “Okay, then. You can touch me...if you can tell me my name.”

It’s a trap, because Dean isn’t supposed to know his name. He’s new, and he purposely didn’t wear a nametag. Cas doesn’t even know why he’s doing this—this is their last time, _of course_ he wants Dean to touch him...doesn’t he? Yet he can’t stop baiting him, the dark thing inside him rising up like smoke and pouring out of his mouth.

“I...I don’t know, you didn’t say—”

“But I know yours. And all the girls who delivered your pizzas, they knew your name. Did you know theirs?”

“Wha…”

“Let me help you. There was Eva...Sheryl...Cari... _Mikayla_.” He grinds on Dean harder. “Though I guess names don’t matter, do they, as long as we give you your _pizza_. So call me whatever you want.” 

He squeezes Dean’s hands, his own knuckles whitening with the pressure and strain. At the look on Dean’s face, though, the anger and jealousy he didn’t want to acknowledge cede to guilt. Though Dean should’ve been honest, who he fucks isn’t really his business, and he shouldn’t be bringing his feelings into this. Cas releases his hands, closing his eyes and turning away as he spears himself onto Dean’s cock once more, finding no more pleasure in the act but doing his best to make up for his shitty behavior to his friend—or the customer, rather. 

Dean’s hands find his hips and hold him firmly. “Time out.”

* * *

Dean is utterly baffled by Cas’ attitude. In all of their roleplays, he’s never acted like this. “What the hell, Cas? Makin’ the pizza guy a little dark, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” 

Cas hurriedly lifts himself off Dean’s cock. Dean winces on Cas’ behalf. That had to hurt. He watches in confusion and concern as Cas drops to the floor.

“Hey, it’s fine if you want the dark vibe, but I feel like there’s something more going on.” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It feels like something.” Dean sits up straighter to look at Cas better. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just...I don’t want to do this.” Cas grabs his pants, studiously not making eye contact as he fishes his boxer briefs out of them.

“Do what? This roleplay? Have sex?”

“All of it,” he mutters.

He’s not sure he heard him correctly. “What?”

“All of it!”

_What? Where the hell is this coming from? Why didn’t he just say something?_

“Wha—Cas, if you didn’t want to, then why were we? We’re supposed to talk about these things, man! If you didn’t want to do it anymore, you should’ve told me, not pretended you wanted to just to please me when you really didn’t.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that something coming from _you_ ,” he spits, fiery eyes finally turning his way.

Ordinarily, such a statement would raise his hackles, but the anger and—hurt?—coming from Cas is so unusual, it’s worrisome, and it only confuses him more. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about _Mikayla!_ ” 

“Who the fuck’s Mikayla?”

Cas throws his underwear, still clutched in his hand, to the floor. “The woman you were gonna fuck! We had an agreement, Dean, and if you wanted to get out of it, fine, but fucking have the decency to tell me _before_ —”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? When? I was never gonna fuck anybody!”

“That’s not what Lee told me!”

_The night at the club. It had to be_. Swift anger curls his hands into fists. “He told you I was gonna sleep with someone else?”

“He sure as hell did!” 

“And why would you believe that?”

Cas blinks at him, his mouth open but saying nothing.

“For fuck’s sake, Cas, I wouldn’t _do_ that to you! You know that, don’t you?”

They stare at each other, breathing heavily from their shouting match, until Cas deflates. “I know,” he whimpers, his head dropping. “I didn’t _want_ to believe it, but it all sounded so...plausible, I—”

“ _Plausible?_ Really? What kind of an asshole do you think I am?”

Cas huffs into his hands, now covering his face. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just...he told me what you argued about, and I—”

_He told him?_ Dean thinks, then wonders exactly what he told him, because apparently he’d already made some shit up. “Hold up. What’d he tell you? No bullshit.”

“He said”—Cas wipes his hands down his face, letting them flop to his lap as his gaze follows—“that I’m trying to change you.”

Dean’s fingernails dig into his palms. “What else?”

“He said that you were going to hook up with Mikayla.”

“Was she that blonde woman? I didn’t even know her _name_.”

Cas huffs. 

“I mean I never even _spoke_ to her. And I didn’t _want_ to ‘cause I was never gonna do anything with her. Lee pointed her out and I said no.”

When Cas flicks his eyes to Dean’s, Dean asks, softly but seriously, “Anything else?” He doesn’t want any misunderstandings between them. “C’mon, out with it,” he urges him when Cas hesitates.

Cas shifts his eyes once more. “He said I was holding you back. That I’ve always held you back. And he said you wanted to be free, but that you didn’t want to tell me.”

Dean is so angry he could spit nails—which he plans to do, right in Lee’s conniving face. But right now, he has bigger things to deal with. He sinks to the floor beside his best friend. “Look at me.”

Cas looks. His eyes are so blue, bluer with the glossy shine of tears hovering within them. It shreds Dean’s heart into pieces to see him hurt like this. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he croaks.

Despite Cas’ freakout, he believes him. “Okay. Then you’ll believe me when I say everything he told you is a lie? _Everything_.”

Cas nods.

“That hookup thing was total bullshit, like I said. As for changing me, I don’t think you’re trying to change me—I’m changing, yeah, ‘cause _I_ want to, and you’re part of that ’cause you’re awesome and we’re trying things out together, you know? But you’re not forcing that. And wanting to be free? Holding me back? I’ve never, ever felt that way. You’ve _never_ held me back from _anything_. You...encourage me and shit.”

Cas quirks a small smile, which feels like a huge win. He rubs one of his eyes, looking both relieved and exhausted. “I’m sorry. He poked at every anxiety and self-doubt I have, and I dove into my pool of insecurity instead of talking to you and made a big mess.”

“Pool of insecurity?” Dean asks, nudging his hand with his own.

“Yeah.” He smiles wider, almost mischievously. “It’s one of those big inflatable ones, you know? I keep trying to get out of it but I get stuck on the side, ass up. With my water wings and my flippers. Like this.” He stands, then drapes himself across the arm of the couch and starts flapping. 

Dean loses his serious composure, gut-busting laughter overtaking him. 

Cas slides back to the floor, also laughing. They gravitate toward each other as they continue to laugh, the tension of their roleplay and conversation abating. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, too, Cas,” Dean says when their laughter has subsided. “I’m sorry for any time I made you think those lies could be plausible, for every time you felt you had to change for me, for every time you felt like anything less than the _best_ best friend you are.”

Cas breaks their gaze, worrying his lip with his teeth. “Thanks. It was all my own insecurity, though, not you or anything about you. My feelings aren’t your responsibility.”

“No”—he squeezes Cas’ shoulder until he looks at him—“but showing and telling you how great you are so that you’ll never believe this stuff is.” 

They smile at each other and sit quietly, the silence between them more comfortable than it’s been since they went out with Bess and Garth. 

“Well, guess the pizza man thing is out the window,” Cas chuckles softly.

Dean suddenly notices their nudity. He forgot about it, forgot about the sex. Now, he doesn’t even care about the sex, suddenly craving the emotional closeness and domesticity that their more intimate roleplays afforded them instead. He just isn’t sure how to ask for it...a roleplay seems inappropriate right now, and they’re not more to each other outside of them. “Uh, yeah,” he finally responds, feeling stupid and clumsy. He adds, almost as an afterthought, “Still got pizza, though.”

Cas smiles. “You wanna get dressed and eat? Listen to some music, play some games?”

A fluttery but happy nervousness makes Dean grin widely. “It’s like you read my mind.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re gorging themselves on cold pizza and playing Bullshit, a card game that they're about equally matched on. After that, they play a “What am I?” game with Post-Its that they stick on each other’s heads as they share the last square of slab pie, sharing the fork as well when Dean drops his on the floor. And after that, they play video games, arms and legs knocking together repeatedly as they run, shoot, and punch.

Because he didn’t bring a bag to stay and he needs to see his parents first thing in the morning, anyway, Cas opts to go home. Dean’s feeling great, despite not having (or, rather, finishing) the sex he’d been looking forward to. The night with Cas, just hanging out doing nothing special, was pretty special anyway. Hanging out with Cas is always special, always satisfying in ways he never thought he’d experience, ways he thinks he might have a name for, ways he was afraid of before. He’s finding he’s not afraid anymore. Not with Cas, anyway.

“Dean?” Cas asks, pausing in the doorway.

“Yeah?” he replies, his thoughts perking the corners of his mouth up.

Cas runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Um...I, uh, just wanted to thank you for these roleplays we’ve done. I couldn’t have done them the way we did without my best friend. I’ve learned a lot about myself and I’ve definitely gotten out of my sexual rut, and I’m pretty sure you have, too, unless this has all been you in your sexual rut, to which I say, uh, wow.” He chuckles, but then his mouth and eyes fall as he says, “So...I think I need to stop now.”

_What? No! Nonono! Why?????_

Dean’s head is spinning at an alarming rate, screaming its refusal and scrambling to make sense of this request that came out of nowhere. He thought they were fine! He even thought maybe… But because Cas is his best friend, because he said he needs this, and because they agreed _if one of us doesn’t want to anymore, we just say so, no big deal, best buds_ , Dean binds and gags his feelings and says, “Oh! Uh, all right. Same here, by the way. So, uh, hug it out?”

“You’ve been around Garth too much,” Cas mumbles after throwing himself into Dean. They stand and embrace in his doorway for a long time, Dean swallowing back tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Stranger roleplay, rimming, anal sex, unprotected sex with a stranger (Cas and Dean roleplaying strangers), sex gets a bit rough, anger, jealousy, angst, insecurity, feels, some fluff, uh oh
> 
> So, how are you all? *ducks to avoid flying objects hurled at the author*   
> Not exactly the talk you meant when you wanted them to talk, I know. Why do you think Cas stopped? What do you think Dean will do now?
> 
> Next chapter: Spies.


	19. The Spy Who Loved Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secret agents.
> 
> Tags at the end if you feel you need them.

Game night the next night went like any other night, the usual suspects there except for Lee, who was at some kind of training and then on vacation for the next couple of weeks. ( _How convenient_ , Dean thought when he heard that from Benny, but Dean was glad he didn’t have to see Lee’s face; he hoped he’d have the good sense to stay away, anyway, though knowing him, he wouldn’t.) The guys didn’t seem to notice anything different between Cas and Dean—not that they should have, because it wasn’t a big deal. Cas even spent the night in the guest bedroom, just like he has so many times before, and they hung out the next day, as they often did. Everything went fine.

The following week, too, went like it always has. He saw Cas three times. They ate together, watched some anime Cas hooked him on and the trashy telenovela that he got Cas hooked on, talked about their days. Things were great.

Friday night, they went to the club. Cas drank his fancy beer and Dean tried to drink his shitty beer, then gave up on it halfway through and shared Cas’ until it was gone and Dean bought the next round. They laughed as they caught up with friends. Neither of them danced. Neither of them took anyone home, despite the offers thrown their way; they were having too much fun together. It was awesome.

By Saturday afternoon, a week and a day after Cas told him he wanted to stop their roleplays, Dean was done pretending everything was fine, great, and awesome. 

A quick phone call and a “Come on over” later, he knocks.

“Mi amigo,” Garth says, subdued and with his arms already open.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes damp as he accepts Garth’s embrace. 

“I made lemonade,” Garth tells him when they separate. “Come on in.”

Dean follows Garth through the nicely-appointed house, waving when they pass Gertie watching _Balto_ , and into the backyard, where there is indeed lemonade, along with a plate of sugar cookies and Bess. She smiles as she stands and approaches him with a hug of her own. Bess has such mom energy that Dean can’t help but relax in her hold, a few tears slipping from his eyes. “Sit,” she urges him, guiding him to a chair before dropping inelegantly into her own.

“It’s about Castiel, huh?” Garth guesses as soon as he’s poured drinks and doled out cookies.

Dean wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yeah.”

“So what’s up?”

“It’s over,” he says simply, though his feelings about it are anything but simple. 

Garth and Bess nod their heads, waiting for him to continue, but Dean needs a minute to figure out what he wants to say. He takes a sip of the lemonade. It has a floral taste he didn’t expect.

“Lavender,” Bess answers Dean’s unasked question.

“It’s good.”

“Thanks. There’s honey in there, too. We took a trip to that apiary you and Cas went to.”

The thought of their time spent together there as a couple chokes him up all over again. He swallows more lemonade to calm himself down.

“It got real, didn’t it?” Bess asks gently.

Dean nods, hiding his face as he leans his elbows against the table. 

“So how did you end up at our house instead of with Cas?”

“He wanted to end it.” Dean sniffles, then rubs his burning eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You told him it got real for you and he wanted to end it?” Garth clarifies.

“No,” Dean scoffs. “I didn’t _tell_ him. God, can you imagine if I had? How humiliated I would be? No, he just said he wanted to end things and I said okay.”

“Why did he want to end things?”

It’s the question he’s been asking himself all week. “I—I don’t know. He just said, ‘I think I need to stop now.’ So we stopped.”

The pair exchange a glance, then turn back to Dean. 

“Maybe you should tell us how this went down,” Bess suggests.

Dean spares few details, laying out the night of the last roleplay, what happened before that, all the roleplays before _that_ , and then circling back to this past week and how things had been between them. When he’s done, he’s wrung out. He nibbles on cookies and waits for their judgment on how exactly he screwed this up. 

“So you’re in love with Cas,” Garth states rather than asks.

Dean’s been turning that around in his head for a while now. When he started this, he just wanted a fun, out-of-the-box way to shake off his sexual slump, to “let loose and be someone else” for a while, as Garth himself put it once. He never planned to change. He always told himself he enjoyed the excitement and emotional distance of new people all the time and that falling in love was something he never wanted. 

But now he thinks the roleplaying was his way of letting himself be the guy he’s _really_ wanted to be—fun, playful, and daring, but also nurturing, domestic, content in the everyday, content with himself. Roleplaying let him be his _entire_ self, not some one-dimensional character he developed to protect himself from reliving his past, from getting trapped in another caregiving role that smothered him. It let him expand himself, his world and his options.

Or, rather, _Cas_ helped him do all that. 

It was roleplaying with _Cas_ that did that. Trusting Cas, giving to and taking from Cas, trying new things with Cas, learning new things about Cas, laying himself bare in every way with Cas and Cas doing the same. He could be himself with Cas. He always could.

If that’s not love, he’s not sure what is.

“Yeah, I’m in love with Cas.” 

They smile at him.

“Don’t you think he should know that?” Garth asks gently.

“I...I dunno.” Dean shakes his head. “He wanted to end things.”

“Sooo...what do you have to lose, then?”

He stares at Garth incredulously. “Uh, everything?”

Garth nods his head. “Ah. Probably better not to tell him, then.”

“Right.”

“Even if you could be happier.”

“Right.”

“Because what matters is Cas’ feelings. Yours don’t count.”

“Right.”

Bess smothers a snicker, then pats her husband’s hand. “You’re not good at this, honey.”

“I’m not?”

“No. Dean doesn’t know you’re being sarcastic.”

Both Dean and Garth say “Oh” at the same time, then look at each other.

“Yeah, I was, you know, saying stuff to make you think the opposite,” Garth explains.

That’s definitely not how Dean heard it. “But you were right.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, just _tell_ him,” Bess urges him. 

“I _can’t_. What if he doesn’t feel the same? And don’t tell me our friendship would go on, ‘cause I’d wanna crawl under a chair every time I saw him.”

“Seems to me like he does, though,” Garth says. “Everything you describe and everything we’ve seen...all signs point to yes, you know?”

“I thought so, too, man, but he stopped things and has been completely above board since. No longing looks, no accidental touches, none of that romantic shit that’s supposed to happen. He’s been...normal.”

“So he’s playing a role, just like he has every time you played together,” Bess observes. “Probably just like what _you’ve_ been doing all week, right?”

Dean pauses. He knows _he’s_ been acting this week, way more than in any of their roleplays, being a damn god and an omega included. “Well...maybe. But I can’t risk it.”

Garth leans forward, catching Dean’s eyes. “Kinda stuck if you don’t wanna risk it.”

“Sounds like something Sam would say,” he mutters, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess. I dunno. Just wanted to spill somewhere, I guess.” He stands with effort, the weight on his heart making his movements heavy and clumsy. “Thanks for lis—”

Bess stops him with a hand to his wrist. “What if you already knew he loves you? Would you tell him you love him then?” 

“Well...yeah.” He huffs a small laugh. “I mean, it’s pretty easy then.”

“Well…” She bites her lip, then continues with a grimace, “What if...he already told me he loves you?”

Dean sits so fast he smashes his knee against the table, but he ignores the pain in favor of this new information. “What?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this—”

“Bess, _please_ , I can’t explain to you how much I need to know this without going into a mess of information about me that you don’t wanna know.”

She smiles sweetly and squeezes his arm. “Okay, well, I’m not saying I ran into him at the deli the other day…”

Cas mentioned running into her on Wednesday. He leans in eagerly, hanging on her every word.

“...and that he looked so heartbroken that I asked him what was wrong,” she continues carefully. “Nor am I saying that we sat in a corner and stuffed our faces with pastrami on rye while he poured out the contents of his heart. His eyes were so _sad_.”

Dean wipes his face, his excitement building. “I thought his eyes looked sad lately,” he agrees, even though he just said Cas had been normal all week because damn it, he _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the shine in his eyes that he waved off as fatigue.

“Oh my goodness, yes. And we were in _public_. Imagine what he’s like when he’s all alone?”

The thought that Cas loves him too has his insides quivering. “And he told you he loves me?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But—”

“And I definitely can’t say he said that he ended things because his feelings got to be too real, too, or that when you guys were acting like a couple, it was the happiest he’s ever been.”

“He...he really—”

“It would be wrong for me to tell you that he told me he loves you. So don’t ask me to say it. But maybe, if you were to have a conversation with him and admit your feelings, _he_ would tell you himself.”

Dean feels so light that he starts to giggle. “It all makes so much sense. We were definitely happiest when we were roleplaying a couple, and when we didn’t, we always found a way to go there, you know? Maybe we were both nervous that it was all for the act or something. Fuck.”

“So are you gonna talk to him?” Garth asks, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah, but I gotta think about it. I wanna do something special.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Bess smiles. She raises her glass. “To Dan and Cal becoming Dean and Cas.”

Dean clinks his glass to hers, then Garth’s. “Yeah. Thanks, you guys.”

And after thinking about it for a while, wanting to do just the right thing, the thing that fits perfectly for them, the thing Cas will never forget because he deserves something special and unique, he finally figures out how he’s going to tell Cas he’s in love with him.

Now he just has to get Cas to agree.

* * *

_Why did I agree to this?_

Cas swore he wouldn’t roleplay with Dean (or anyone else) again. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to, though. He loved roleplaying with Dean. It’s just that the pain of continuing to do it with Dean without acknowledging his very real feelings underneath (and having them returned) wasn’t good for either of them.

And yet here he is, waiting for him.

Dean approached him after game night last Saturday, saying he wanted to talk to him about something. He looked so... _bouncy_ that Cas thought it would be something fun and uncomplicated, maybe some new taproom he wanted to go to or a new dish he was dying to make Cas try. Dean had certainly been in a good mood all night. But when he said “I wanna do one more roleplay,” Cas’ heart sank. Yet at the same time, he knew he was weak and hell, he _wanted_ to be with him like that again. 

Dean’s reasoning was simple and solid—their last one was a bust, and did they really want _that_ to be the memory they had of their last roleplay after the others had been so good? He had to agree, though honestly, the night went very well from his perspective. Not the fight, of course, or the sex, but what happened after—spending time, playing games, eating, laughing. It was a lot like what he imagined a night at home for the two of them could be. On the surface, it wasn’t any different than any other night they’d spent together as friends, but their talk and all his built-up feelings over time had him feeling much closer to him, much more like his partner than his friend. He _wanted_ to be his partner, not his friend. So the roleplays had to stop, just as he had told himself many times before. 

Dean gave him the choice. “We don’t have to do a roleplay if you don’t want to, obviously, but this one feeds into your obsession with spy culture,” he’d joked.

He wasn’t off about that. Cas loves the whole spy genre. He was James Bond for Halloween one year when he was a kid, he’s seen and read the Bourne series multiple times, and he even pretended to be a Russian spy once when they were at a club and a guy was bugging him, just to fuck with him. Dean knows all this—he’s watched plenty of spy movies with him and even uses “Secret Agent Man” as his ringtone for Cas. 

“And I really want to give you something special, something you’ll never forget,” Dean added softly, and that did it. 

Dean had wanted to set it up so that they were married and found out that each of them were spies, sort of like _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ , but Cas put a stop to that one. He might be weak, but pretending to be married again was a no-go. His heart could only take so much. No, this needed to be hot, impersonal sex between the spy and his target. Dean looked a little disappointed, for whatever reason, but he agreed. 

His “target” is on the move, leaving his house. Cas follows.

He watches him as he pumps gasoline, as he swings by to see Sam, and finally, as he stops at his Uncle Bobby's garage. The garage isn’t open, but they figured Dean could park in the back, where there’s a fenced-off area with a lock, and then walk down to the coffee shop. Cas is supposed to kidnap him during his walk, but as he thinks more about it, he becomes nervous that it’ll go sideways somehow and the cops will get involved again. So he decides to take his opportunity now.

He parks outside the fence and waits. Spies would probably be less obvious and park farther away, but he doesn’t want to be out abducting people any longer than he needs to be.

When Dean passes the tree he’s hiding behind, Cas runs up to him and grabs him, covering his mouth when Dean gasps. “You come quietly with me now, Mr. Daniel Smith,” he growls in a thick Russian accent that he knows Dean loves, since he requests it a lot outside of their roleplays. 

Dean nods, breathing shallowly. 

He drags him to his car and pushes him inside, then slides into the driver’s seat.

“You the one who’s been followin’ me?” Dean— _Daniel Smith_ —asks. “Don’t hide yourself very well.”

_So he’s a smart-mouthed target. Got it._ “Neither do you.”

“Touché. Your car’s a piece of shit.”

“You should be careful you don’t find yourself under its wheels.”

Dean huffs. “Got other things I’d rather be under, babe.”

_Babe._ He’s missed that word, but the way Dean used it as a cocky retort, rather than the caring endearment of a loving husband, took all the warmth out of it and rendered it meaningless. “You will be under the ground if you continue, _babe_.”

“Well okay, then, my hot kidnapper doesn’t wanna play.”

Cas glances at him. “Oh, we will play,” he warns.

They drive the rest of the way to Dean’s in silence. When they arrive, Cas slings his bag over his shoulder, then tucks a hand in his pocket, where he has a medicine dropper. “I am holding an item that will kill you instantly if you try anything, so do not test me.” 

“That’s hot,” his target smirks.

Cas rolls his eyes and walks with him casually to the door, waiting patiently while he unlocks it. Once they’re inside, he locks it behind them. “Strip, then kneel,” he commands.

“I knew you’d be kinky, all buttoned up like you are,” Dean tosses back, eyeballing Cas’ black suit as he drops his clothes, then himself, to the floor.

Cas drags a kitchen chair to the living room, then pulls a length of rope from his bag. He helps him stand, places him down on the chair, and ties Dean’s hands together behind him before looming over him. “Tell me what you know about the Seraphim project.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Your life, for one.”

Dean shrugs.

“You do not take this seriously.”

“Oh, I do. But it’s not like my life hasn’t been threatened before. And you’re probably gonna kill me anyway. So you gotta make it...interesting for me. Make me wanna tell you. Kill me softly, as it were.”

Dean’s sassiness is as alluring as it is frustrating, and his eyes sparkle mischievously. He’s so hard to resist.

So he doesn’t.

He twists Dean’s hair in his fingers, wrenches his head to the side, and sucks on his neck until he feels heat bloom underneath his lips. 

Dean moans, long and low, and Cas wants to do the same. Touching Dean is so deliciously addictive, and he’s missed it. But to play his part, he has to be indifferent. In control. He withdraws. “Who’s involved in Seraphim?”

“I don’t know.”

“You _do_ know, and you _will_ tell me, one way or another.” He kisses down his neck and chest, hitting all the spots that he knows drive Dean wild. Ripples of heat wash through him as Dean groans. “I can be...persuasive.”

“And I can be... _fuck_...resistant.”

“This I can see.”

Dean snickers. That one hit too close to Dean’s real personality, and they both know it.

“I will break you.”

“Maybe. But you're gonna have to try a lot harder.”

Cas looks down pointedly at Dean’s cock, which is filling rapidly. “Harder, yes? Oh, harder will not be a problem.” He stands and positions himself behind Dean. “You want it harder?” He glides his hands down Dean’s chest until he reaches his cock, where he traces every ridge. He presses his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispers, “I can do harder.”

Dean gulps and squirms in his seat as Cas caresses his chest with one hand and his cock with the other while he tongues the shell of his ear. 

“What do you know about Seraphim, Mr. Daniel Smith?”

“Fuck you,” Dean manages to say, his breathlessness taking the edge off what he surely meant to be something much more menacing.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, then walks around to face Dean. “See, there’s no fucking if you don’t give me what I want. And what I want, to start, are names. Who’s involved in Seraphim? What do you know?”

“My lips are sealed,” Dean says with a defiant jut of his chin.

“Not for long,” Cas retorts with a squint. “You want what you want, I want what I want. But maybe I have guessed wrong about what you want. Maybe you want something between those sealed lips.”

Dean nods, licking said lips as he eyes Cas’ crotch. 

Cas unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, then takes them and his underwear down all at once. He presents himself to his target, getting just close enough for him to reach if he leans forward. “Suck,” he demands.

_Oh hell_ , Cas wants to cry as Dean follows his command. His hands fly to Dean’s hair, fingers tightening, and Dean hums his consent as he sucks and swallows. 

It would be easy to lose himself in it, easy to forget his role and pull Dean to the bedroom and kiss him and hold him and suck each other off, then cuddle together. But he’s forgotten his role too many times already. He can’t do it again. He pulls out, his cock scraping against Dean’s teeth, and tucks himself back in his pants, zipping them and buckling his belt.

Dean whimpers. Cas restrains his own whimper at the loss (and the pain of his scraped penis).

“What do you know about Seraphim, Mr. Daniel Smith?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t _lie_ , Mr. Daniel Smith,” Cas growls, pretending to be angry as he grabs Dean’s chin. “You know things. I want what you know. Tell me about Seraphim.”

“I’m not telling you,” Dean rasps. “Not without protection. Guarantees.”

“Oh? And if you have these guarantees, you will talk?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Cas snorts, releasing his chin and stepping away from him. “First you don’t know anything, now maybe you know something. I don’t have time for your games.” He throws Dean’s jeans at his crotch. “I will not reward insolence. You don’t talk, you get nothing but torture.”

Acting desperate, Dean cries, “No, wait! I’ll tell you. I just need a guarantee, like I said.”

Cas paces around him, hands clasped behind his back. “You ask for guarantees as if you are the one in charge. You are not, Mr. Daniel Smith. Come now. You want to tell me. It’s eating away at you. Tell me about Seraphim. Tell me everything.”

“I need a guarantee.”

Feigning exasperation, he sighs, “And what guarantee is that?”

His eyes softening, his lips trembling, Dean says, “That if I tell you the truth, it’ll be okay.”

Cas scrutinizes him. Is he trembling for real? Do they need to call a time out? He fetches a water bottle from his bag and offers it to him. “Drink. Then truth. If you tell the truth, we have no problem. Truth set you free.”

Dean drinks from the bottle that Cas holds for him, then winks. “Think you can handle the truth, beautiful?”

He seems okay, back to his cheeky self, so Cas pretends to fly into a rage at being teased. He grips Dean’s hair tightly. “Do not _fuck_ with me, Mr. Daniel Smith.”

Dean gasps, a small, breathy thing that Cas knows is arousal. 

“The truth now.”

“You sure—”

“No more games, no more hesitation! Tell me the truth!”

“Okay!” he cries. With Cas still holding his hair, Dean meets his eyes and says, “My name isn’t Daniel Smith. It’s Dean Winchester.”

Cas lets go and leans back slowly. _What is he doing? This isn’t what we discussed._ “Dean Winchester,” he repeats, his accent making the name odd yet still beautiful in his mouth.

“Yes. And the truth is...I’m in love with Castiel Novak.”

For a moment, all Cas can do is stare. Then, wordlessly, he moves behind Dean’s chair and unties his hands, then steps in front of Dean. He searches his face. “You are free,” he says thickly.

And with that, he strides to the door, snatching his bag on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Spy roleplay, fake kidnapping, rough play (hair-pulling), interrogation, dub-con (but not really-Cas "kidnaps" Dean and uses sex as an interrogation tool; Dean is VERY into it, don't worry), Russian accent, feels
> 
> Ah, Garth and Bess-our heroes! But what the hell, Cas?
> 
> Next chapter: What happens when the roleplay's over?


	20. Realplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get real.
> 
> Tags for the chapter at the end if you need them! ❤️

_You knew this was a bad idea._

_Or you should have, you colossal idiot._

Dean stares at the door Cas just used to exit out of their roleplay...and maybe out of his life. 

How did he screw this up?

It should have gone like this: He confesses. Cas immediately drops out of character and into his arms, making his own love confession. They kiss. They go to his bed to make sweet love. They hold each other all night, and in the morning he makes him waffles, and then they spend the entire day and every day after being a real couple, all the good and the bad, the vanilla and the Heavenly Hash. Cas loves him. Why did he walk out?

He doesn’t know, but he knows he screwed it up and he has to fix it.

He’s put on his jeans and is just tugging his shirt on so he can chase after Cas when the door opens.

It’s Cas, still in his dress pants but now wearing the sushi shirt, his hair messier than the spy’s sleek style. His bag is slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean whispers.

Cas licks his lips. “Hey.” 

They stand quietly observing each other until Cas says, “I think we need to talk.”

Dean nods like he’s calm and collected, but inside he’s quaking with fear and self-doubt. “Yeah. Um, have a seat.”

He does, but only after stopping by the kitchen for two craft brews. Dean is grateful for the liquid courage. His friend knows him well.

“So,” Dean begins, though he really doesn’t want to.

“So.”

Because Cas doesn’t seem inclined to keep the conversation rolling (and it’s Dean’s dumb fault they have to have it, anyway), Dean stumbles on—or tries to. “Um, yeah. Shit. Okay, so—” 

“Dean?”

Terrified that Cas is about to tell him _never mind, no talking, screw you_ , Dean swallows and whispers, “Yeah?”

“We do need to talk about this. But before we do, I want to tell you that I’m fucking _thrilled_ about what came out of your mouth, and that I’m in love with you, too.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he mutters, dropping his face into his hands and taking a deep, steadying breath. He straightens and looks at his best friend, who’s looking back at him with those baby blues he’s always taken for granted. Not anymore, though. 

“I thought the beer and my confession might help you relax. I know how much you love to talk.” Cas’ eyes sparkle as a grin spreads across his face.

“Fucker,” Dean grumbles with relief and affection as he shoves Cas’ knee. “You scared me to death when you left!”

“You scared me to death when you declared your love _in a roleplay_. It took me a minute to figure out whether you were serious.”

“Of course I was serious!”

“And I was supposed to know that _how_?”

“Because I said your real name!”

“And?”

“I—” He considers now that maybe his clever plan wasn’t so clever. “Okay, it sounded better in my head, all right? I just wanted to do something cool for you, something special and memorable.”

“I’ll remember wanting to throw up.”

“You did not.”

“I did! You said it and I freaked out that this thing I’d hoped for, this thing I’d wanted for so long wasn’t real, that it was...I dunno, part of the act or some kind of joke or something.”

Dean slumps. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no, I...should’ve known with the names. And I _did_ , I just wanted to be _sure_. It would’ve sucked to have gotten that wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, remembering how freaked out he was about the same thing and how Bess’ reassurance had made him brave. Cas had no such reassurance. “So what made you know?”

Cas takes his hand. “The look in your eyes. It was all Dean.”

He’s still amazed sometimes that Cas knows him so well. Except... “Why’d you leave, then?”

“I wanted to break completely from the roleplay and come back as me, so we could have our conversation as us.”

Dean nods in understanding.

“And maybe I had to make you sweat a _little_ for what you pulled,” Cas grins, clearly teasing.

“And you say _I’m_ the brat,” Dean says, squeezing his hand and grinning back so hard his jaw hurts.

“You are.”

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” It feels good to say. 

“Yeah,” Cas chuckles before he takes a breath and grows serious. “Dean, I have been in love with you for...well, a while. Before the roleplays. While we were still...you know, at the clubs.”

 _Shit. They wasted so much time. And all that time, Cas had to watch...just like he had to watch...fuck._ “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

His best friend— _the guy he’s in love with, the guy who loves him!—_ shoots him a dour look he’s seen plenty of times before. “Bitch, please.”

“What?”

“Really, Dean? ‘Cause it’s so easy? Why didn’t you tell me before now? You didn’t just realize ten minutes ago, did you?”

He’s right, of course. “All right, all right, I get it,” he laughs. “You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes. Often.”

They laugh again before Cas resumes speaking with a sigh. “It was more than being scared, though. I didn’t think you wanted a relationship. It’s what you’ve always said. And even if you did, I never thought you’d want...” He waves at himself. 

Dean's smile drops. “Cas—”

“I know, I know. I meant what I told you when I tried to end this, though. I’ve learned a lot about myself and you through this whole thing. Playing someone else was fun, and empowering, and...well, ultimately, it was self-affirming, I guess. I got to live out not only the absurd stuff, but the domestic stuff, the stuff I always tried to...push away, to deny I wanted because I wanted you and you didn’t want that. But that was the best stuff for me, to be honest. When we were a couple, it was...amazing. I was so happy.”

He knows, because Bess already told him that Cas was happiest when they were doing the couple roleplays. “Me too, Cas.” He circles Cas’ knuckle with his thumb, thrilled at how familiar yet new it feels. 

“It confirmed what I wanted in my life, and it convinced me that I couldn’t keep denying myself, whether you were on board or not. And since I thought you weren’t...I stopped everything.”

Dean nods. “You deserve to have what you want out of life, babe.”

Pink tints Cas’ cheeks; Dean realizes then what he called him, but he won’t take it back. If he’s lucky, he can keep calling him babe and sweetheart and all kinds of sappy names for a long, long time. 

“I know I do. You helped me see that.”

“I did?”

“You told me you didn’t want me to hide the things I did, and that you wanted me to be...me, even in the roleplays. The more I did it, the better it felt, at least until I had to face the fact that we wanted different things. Or I thought we did. I realized I had to choose. So...I chose me.”

Romance novels would tell you that you should always choose your partner (or Dean thinks they would; he doesn’t _read_ them, except for those few that...never mind), but to Dean, Cas’ approach makes more sense. It’s healthier. Dean did it himself, sort of, when he chose to stick to his one-nighters, not wanting to compromise who he was and what he needed. But there was a flaw in Dean’s method—he forgot to re-evaluate exactly who he was and what he needed every so often, and he got stuck. 

There’s a flaw in Cas’ thinking, too, but mostly, Dean’s damn happy about it. “I’m _glad_ you chose you,” Dean tells him, squeezing his hand for emphasis. “I never wanted you to live for me, or change for me, or compromise any part of you for me or anyone, because you deserve to be you and to be loved for being you. So I’m glad.” He raises Cas’ hand and kisses it before pulling it into his lap. “There’s one thing I’d change about your decision-making process, though.”

Cas arches a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I think you needed to figure out for sure whether the options you thought were closed to you were actually closed.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement. “True.” 

“Me too.”

“You too?”

“Yeah. I mean, I wanted...more, but I shut down anything that even hinted at somebody else being able to control me or have any influence over my life ‘cause I didn’t want a repeat of my childhood, havin’ to be there for others and getting little to nothing back. I didn’t even consider that I could have more with the _right_ somebody. The right somebody wouldn’t try to control me; they’d encourage me, support me, let me be me. We’d take care of each other.”

Cas nods and covers their joined hands with his free one. 

Dean exhales heavily. He trusts Cas more than anyone, but talking about this stuff is always a little tough. He tries to lighten things by adding, “And the other flaw in my thinking was believing that being in a relationship equaled boredom. With you, I found out that vanilla could be pretty damn tasty when you had the right beans mixing together.” He wiggles his brows at Cas.

“I’m...confused. Are you calling our sexual organs beans?”

“Well—well, no, I meant _we’re_ the beans, happy in our little bean pod, you know?”

“I think the bean and the pod are the same. The seeds are in the bean.”

“Okay, well, my point still stands. Vanilla is tasty when you do it right.”

“Huh. Using plant analogies. I think you’ve spent too much time at the farmers’ market.”

Dean barks a laugh as he realizes Cas has been teasing him this whole time, going along with Dean’s attempts to lighten things up. He tugs Cas into his arms and breathes deeply, letting the emotions of the last hours—and the last several months—settle to rest. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, bean.”

Dean snorts. “Never change.”

Cas pulls back, a sassy grin gracing his handsome face. It softens into something warmer as he takes something out of the bag he’d dropped by his feet. They’re spider flowers from Dean’s yard. He offers the bright red blooms to him. “I always wanted to give flowers to someone,” he admits.

“I never thought I’d get flowers from someone,” Dean replies with his own admission. “It’s nice. I like it.”

Cas smiles shyly, his tongue just poking out to lick his lips. “I know we already know each other, love each other, and have had lots of sex with each other, but do you wanna go on a date?”

 _A date?_ He’s never been on an actual date. “Uh…”

“I’m thinking we grab some food? See a movie, maybe, or see if any decent bands are playing downtown?”

Relief floods his body once again. It’s a date, but it’s something they’ve done plenty of times in their long relationship, a truly casual, no-pressure thing. Cas knows him so well. 

Although he thinks Cas deserves more, and he would like Cas to himself…

“I’ll do you one better, babe.”

* * *

Cas has been banished to Dean’s room. 

Outside the door, there’s lots of movement, but no indication of what Dean’s doing, unless what he’s doing is moving out. It sounded like he was dragging something a few minutes ago, and there was some banging and swearing, but Dean assured him he was fine and warned him to _stay put._

So he’s staying put.

He’s already changed into the shorts he packed in his bag, admired his sketch of Baby that Dean hung in a beautiful frame on the wall above the bed, doodled spider flowers on the back of an envelope he found, and checked the drawer of the nightstand to make sure they have plenty of lube for later. Now he’s playing games on his phone, waiting to see what Dean’s cooked up for him—figuratively and, knowing him, maybe literally.

He flicks to his messages when he sees a few new texts. 

_Grinch 6:59pm: I’m at the store. How does everyone else feel about sausage?_

Cas smiles. Crowley has really taken to their game nights and to his friends, and now he even wants to bring food. Despite his saltiness, he’s sort of sweet on the inside.

_Grinch 6:59pm: I know how you feel about it._

_Ah, there it is._ Cas chuckles. The poor man can’t get _too_ sweet.

_Grinch 6:59pm: I was thinking of making sausage rolls._

_Cas 7:00pm: Sure, those sound great. I think everyone would be on board._

Then, to be cheeky, he sends:

_Cas 7:00pm: I might be a bit full from all the sausage I plan to eat before, though._

He’s still snickering at his own joke when Crowley replies:

_Grinch 7:01pm: Made up with Dean, then?_

He hadn’t told him anything about things with Dean over the last week. The guy is way more observant than he thought.

_Cas 7:01pm: We’re good, yes. See you tomorrow._

_Crowley 7:01pm: I guess you’re very good. See you then._

Cas grins. Yes, he’s very good.

The door opens to an adorably nervous Dean. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I, uh...it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to be nervous.”

“The fuck I don’t.”

“Hey.” Cas stands and rests his hands on his hips. “Whatever you did, I’ll love it, bean.”

The name makes Dean smile. He bumps their foreheads together. “Okay, bean.”

“Hey, you can’t use that. That’s _your_ name.”

“It was _my_ analogy.”

“Tough.”

Dean squints, pursing his mouth, then says, “Okay, bee. As in honeybee. As in my sweet, fuzzy, bumbly bumblebee.”

Cas giggles, his nose scrunching in that way that makes him self-conscious. “You are ridiculously sappy. And clearly not the only dork in this relationship. Also, honeybees and bumblebees are different.”

“You love it. And you are the bigger dork, Mr. Bee Expert.”

“I’m not the bigger dork, I’m just a different kind of dork. I didn’t just call you a sweet, fuzzy bumblebee, Mr. Secretly Romantic Dork.”

He hopes that he’s not pushing Dean too far, that he knows he’s joking and that he adores this side of him. This is still so new between them that it would be easy to misinterpret. And yet...it’s not so new. They’ve been practicing for a while now, trying on roles. It was real, even when they were pretending it wasn’t.

Dean doesn’t seem like he’s feeling pushed...not in a direction he doesn’t want to go, anyway. No, he’s smiling, open, comfortable. Cas links his hands behind Dean’s back. “Show me what you did for me.”

As if Dean suddenly remembers that he has a purpose other than coming in here and making googly eyes at him (not that Cas is opposed), Dean breaks their embrace and takes his hand. “Come on.”

He leads him to the backyard and... _wow_.

“Dean,” Cas whispers.

“Like it?”

In the screened gazebo, there are candles and music, reminiscent of a couple of their roleplays. There’s food, too, though it appears to be buttered noodles rather than sea urchin and bison burgers. But the most incredible part is the mattress from the guest room plunked right in the middle of it all. 

“I love it,” Cas whispers, squeezing his fingers.

“Good. Come on.”

* * *

“Sorry I couldn’t make you something fancy. Haven’t done groceries, so didn’t have much,” Dean apologizes as they share a Milky Way candy bar, fully dressed but tucked into the bed.

“I don’t need fancy.”

“Still. I’ll get better at this.”

“Are you serious? Dean, you’re _great_ at this.”

A shy, pleased smile flits across his face. “Thanks. But not just this, you know, just...I’ll be a good boyfriend to you. If you want that, I mean.”

“Hmm. You’ve been my best friend for years and I’m in love with you...but be your boyfriend? I don’t know, that seems like a lot.” Cas shoots him a teasing grin, then a scowl. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get,” Dean grumbles after pinching Cas’ side. He looks relieved, though...mostly.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’re nervous. And I know why. But you’re amazing just as you are, okay? You only have to be you, as I believe you’ve told me plenty of times.” He pats his hand, then flips his own over. “Now give.”

He takes the candy bar he asked for and bites into it. A string of caramel grows as he pulls it away from himself; he catches Dean’s eyes and giggles as he extends the bar further, seeing how long he can stretch it. Dean watches him, snickering and doing nothing to stop the inevitable.

It breaks. Cas catches some of it in his hand, while the rest falls to his chin. “Thanks for helping,” he mumbles through a mouthful of gooey chocolate.

“No problem.” Dean watches him until he swallows the bite he took, then takes the candy away before he can take another one. He thumbs at Cas’ chin, cradling it atop his fingertips. “Got somethin’ there.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas asks, knowing full well where this is going.

“Mmmhmm.” Dean leans forward, closer and closer, still supporting his chin. “Want some help with it?”

“You’re so smooth,” Cas teases, smiling as his heart pounds. “You know I’m a sure thing, right?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it.”

Cas melts as Dean cleans the caramel off his chin with slow, sucking kisses. “Mmm. Fun is good. We’re good at fun.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Remembering the scene they were doing earlier, Cas asks, “Should I break out the accent again?”

“Nah,” Dean says with a chuckle. He meets his eyes. “That was hot— _very_ hot—but tonight, I wanna make love to my boyfriend Cas for the first time. Okay with you?”

“Very okay,” Cas sighs, caressing Dean’s stubbled cheek. 

Dean’s lips meet his so tenderly, so lovingly. It’s very much like when they’ve kissed as a “couple,” but without all the anxiety of _enjoy this while you can_ and _this isn’t real, dumbass_ poking at his mind. He relaxes into it, letting his mouth slacken until their kisses become sloppy and oh-so-real. 

Pausing only to undress them both, Dean pampers his body thoroughly with kisses and gentle touches. After a while, he takes his cock in his mouth, his tongue mimicking the long strokes of his hands across the rest of his skin. Cas moans, wondering how he can stay in Dean’s mouth forever. 

He pouts when Dean wants him to turn over. Dean chuckles affectionately, then taps him on the ass, making Cas titter as he does what he’s asked. He shakes his ass for good measure. Dean moans as he massages the globes of his ass with firm strokes. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he says, sounding awed.

Cas hums, then hums louder when Dean spreads him and puts his tongue to use once more. “Fuuuuuuck,” he whispers, clawing at the sheets.

Dean stops. “Can I?” he asks, almost shyly.

“You’d better,” he mutters in a growl-purr born of relaxation and arousal. 

He immediately gets back to work, working in a lubed finger as he continues to pleasure him. One finger becomes two, and soon Cas wants nothing more than to have Dean inside him. “Want you, hon,” he babbles.

“You got it, babe.” He backs away, grabbing at the bottle of lube again that Cas recognizes from the living room couch rather than the bedside table. 

While Dean drizzles lube on his cock, Cas turns over, wanting to see Dean when they make love as themselves for the first time. When Dean notices, his eyes soften. He tucks a pillow under him, then braces himself on his forearms, hovering over him. “Hey Cas,” he smiles.

“Hello Dean.”

Dropping kisses like raindrops all over Cas’ face and neck as he eases in, it takes little time for Dean to seat himself fully into him. Cas, overwhelmed with the feeling of his best friend choosing him, staying with him, loving him, pulls Dean into a deep kiss, separating only to gasp as Dean hits his prostate.

“Gotcha,” Dean murmurs. 

Cas huffs. “Brat.”

“Your brat.”

“Damn right you are.”

They say nothing more as they focus on their physical pleasure, finally secure in their emotional pleasure. Dean keeps a steady rhythm, driving him closer to the edge, until Cas can’t hold back—he touches himself, crying out as sensation floods him. He knows, objectively, that they’ve done this before, that it shouldn’t feel so different, so intense...but it does, and he comes with a few strokes, his free hand flying to Dean’s hair and gripping it tight as his body undulates. Dean fills him moments later, shouting his name and then repeating it over and over, softer and softer, until it’s merely a breath. 

Dean rests on him heavily, panting against his neck. Cas stares at the ceiling of the gazebo, letting his heart slow. 

He finally made love with Dean Winchester. His best friend. 

All the feelings he had after their first roleplay at the bar, all the feelings he had every single roleplay after...they were nothing compared to the feelings he has now. He begins to laugh. 

“What?” Dean props himself on his elbows, his gaze both full of love and slightly worried.

“Just thinking about how much I enjoyed our roleplays…”

Dean raises a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And how I enjoyed our realplay so much more.” He winks.

Dean grins crookedly as he shakes his head. “You can’t wink for shit.”

“I can’t? What do you mean?”

He laughs softly, eyes warm and beautiful and fixed on him. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas can hardly believe how easily it comes out of his mouth...and yet he also knows that when Dean commits, he _commits_ , in roleplays and in real life. His declaration is sincere, given freely and without restraint, like everything he’s given Cas over the years. “I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean presses his lips against Cas’ sweetly before he gets up and leaves the gazebo. He returns with a washcloth, which he uses to wipe him down gently before he climbs back into bed and into Cas’ arms. Cas drops light kisses onto his head.

“Mmm,” Dean sighs. “I’m so friggin’ glad you and Bess ran into each other at the deli.”

Cas frowns. “Okaaay. Why?”

He grimaces as he turns his head up. “Don’t get mad, okay? It was her telling me that gave me the balls to tell you tonight.”

“Her telling you what?”

“That you love me.”

Cas stares at him in confusion. “I never told her that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I think I’d remember that, Dean.”

“You had lunch with her and you talked.”

“I was eating lunch when she arrived to pick up hers, so she sat and we ate together. She asked me how things were going with you. I said things were fine. I mean, they _weren’t_ , but that’s what I said.”

Dean pales. “You didn’t tell her…”

“No.”

He sits up. “Damn. She played me. They played me!”

“What?”

“They played me! Those little con artists!”

“Dean, what—”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Babe, _what_ are you talking about?”

“I went to talk to Garth and Bess about our situation, and she said you told her! Or, well, she _insinuated_ it really, _really_ hard.”

“Oh. Wow, that could’ve gone badly if I wasn’t in love with you.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Cas drags Dean down to the mattress and wraps him in his arms again. “Good thing I was very obvious, then.”

“To her, maybe.”

“I’m guessing to everyone but you.”

“That probably makes two of us,” Dean huffs in amusement. “God knows most of our friends gave me shit about having a crush on you at one time or another. Bess and Garth were the only ones to ever do anything about it, though. Little opportunists.”

“Mmm.” Cas kisses Dean’s nose. “I guess we owe them a fruit basket or something.”

Dean chuckles, relaxing against him once more. “Yeah. Maybe when we do groceries tomorrow? If you want. I mean, I know it’s not the most exciting—”

“Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

Dean takes his hand and laces their fingers. They breathe together, the night breathing with them, until Cas feels himself drifting. 

The last thing he remembers is an _I love you_ pressed into his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: oral sex, fingering, rimming, anal sex, communication, actual words, heartfelt discussions, love confessions, bit of insecurity 
> 
> Ahhhhhhhhhh! Finally! 😂😂😂 Thanks for sticking with these two lovesick fools, lol!
> 
> Next time: Truths and Lies.


	21. Truths and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags at the end if you feel you need them! ❤️(Nothing we haven’t seen before 😘)
> 
> Sometimes the greatest truths are discovered through the biggest lies.

Cas watches the flutter of Dean’s eyelids as he sleeps. It’s creepy, probably, but he can’t help it. He can _look_ now. 

Maybe he’ll take it for granted someday. Maybe the curve of his lips won’t be as appealing. Maybe the heat of his body next to him won’t be so intoxicating. Maybe the utter peace he’s in as he sleeps won’t touch him so deeply. 

He certainly hopes not.

It was a lot, what they said and did last night. Though he doesn’t doubt Dean’s love or his sincerity in declaring it, he does question how he’ll be feeling this morning, if he’ll need some space after last night’s vulnerability or if he’ll need to be even closer. 

Cas wonders if he can feel him out somehow.

He gets an idea.

Carefully, Cas slips the covers down Dean’s body. When he’s bared to him, he glides his hands over his skin, resting them at his hips. Dean’s eyes twitch but stay closed. He’s awake, the fucker. Cas grins to himself as he leans down and wakes Dean in the most pleasant sort of way.

“Fuck,” Dean groans.

Cas hums as he continues to suck on Dean’s cock, urging it to life. Soon it’s very lively indeed, as are Dean’s moans and hands as they clutch his hair.

Just when he thinks Dean might pop, Cas clambers up his body until they’re face-to-face. “Are you Seraphim, Mr. Dean Winchester?” he asks in his Russian accent.

Dean opens his eyes. “No,” he whispers. “But I know who is.”

“Tell me.”

He rolls them over and grasps his wrists. “You are.”

Cas pauses for dramatic effect, then says, “Well, damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t guess that.”

The flippant, heavily-accented statement sends Dean into surprised belly laughter. Cas laughs, too, happy that Dean seems playful and engaged (though he’s sure the blowjob helped that).

Dean kisses along his neck and jaw, then cradles his face and drops a light kiss onto his lips. “You’re a dork,” Dean says affectionately.

“I’m your dork,” he smiles.

“You are.” Dean kisses him again, then says, “You know, Seraphim, we could run together. Us against the world.”

“I thought you were, what do you call it...a ‘Lone Ranger’?”

“I was,” Dean admits, and Cas knows by the softness in his eyes that he’s not speaking solely from his character’s perspective. “But I’m ready for a partner now, ‘cause I found the right one.”

Cas smiles, then brushes his lips against Dean’s with a hum. Dean seems content and relaxed, happy to be close. Cas drops back into character and asks playfully, “And this is not just a setup to fuck me, is it, Mr. Dean Winchester?”

“Oh, I plan to fuck you,” Dean teases back, then adds seriously, “And you can trust me. It’s you and me. I’m not gonna fuck you over...and I sure as hell hope I don’t fuck this up.”

 _What...oh._ It seems Dean isn’t _completely_ relaxed. “Dean,” Cas says gently. “You’re not gonna fuck this up. And I wasn’t asking if you’re going to fuck me over. I know you won’t.”

“Yeah, well, given our misunderstandings and, you know, my history, I thought I should make it clear.”

“Hey. You’ve never fucked me over, not once. You’ve always been there for me, always taken me with you, never left me behind even with all of your opportunities to have friends that—”

“Whoa, stop diving into that insecurity pool, there, Water Wings. It’s gonna get crowded with both of us in there.” Dean threads calming fingers through his hair. “No friend could ever be like you. And hey, you think you’re the only one who’s ever been afraid of losing his best friend? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, watching you grow up while I just grew older...thinking you’d find someone better and leave me behind scared me to death, man.”

He had no idea Dean had ever been afraid of losing _him_. “I’m never going to leave you behind.”

“Same.”

“Okay.” He bumps Dean’s nose with his own, then adds, “Though I may let myself fall behind a few steps so I can watch you go.” He squeezes Dean’s ass to emphasize his joke.

Dean shakes his head and grins. “They’re getting the biggest fruit basket, I swear.” 

“Fuck, yes,” Cas agrees, then surprises his boyfriend by flipping them over. “We are ‘going rogue’ now, Mr. Dean Winchester,” he says with his accent and a wiggle of his brows.

Dean laughs and enthusiastically agrees, arching his pelvis up to meet Cas’ and pulling him down for a kiss.

Cas doesn’t take it as soft and slow as Dean did last night. Instead, he uses all of the passion he feels for him to fuel his fervid touches. He licks and sucks. He bites and scratches. He thrusts and grinds. Dean responds beautifully, pushing and tugging and begging to be filled.

Eventually, Cas relents to Dean’s request. “How would you like this?” he asks in his thick accent.

“Hard,” Dean answers breathlessly.

That wasn’t exactly what Cas meant, but he goes with it as Dean gets to his knees. He’s gorgeous like this, spread out and vulnerable. Others have had him like this physically, probably, but he’s the only one who’s had him so emotionally exposed, he’s certain. Cas glides his eyes and his hands over Dean’s ass. “You want to do it yourself or you want me to do it, comrade?” 

“I’ll show you how it’s done, _comrade_ ,” Dean replies. He reaches for the lube, then slicks up his fingers and inserts two straightaway. 

Cas just about comes right then. “You are...skilled,” he gulps, stroking himself as he watches Dean work. 

“Uh huh. Know what I can’t do, though? Get a cock in me on my own.”

That makes Cas think of some of the fun things they could try with toys. He lies down beside Dean so he can make eye contact with him. “Perhaps sometime you can. Perhaps sometime you ride a fat dildo while I suck you off. Or perhaps, comrade, we find very special toy we can ride together.”

Dean closes his eyes and inhales sharply. “Fuck, Cas, you fill me up right fucking now,” he demands on an equally-sharp exhale.

Cas stifles a chuckle at Dean’s frantic desire and his slip out of character. “This is acceptable.”

Dean opens his eyes and glares at him, and it’s so grumpy-kitten cute that Cas can’t restrain his laugh. When Dean straddles him, though, he’s no longer laughing. He hovers over Cas’ hard-as-nails cock. “Do it or I will,” he threatens.

Growly Dean is definitely hot, but Cas is in control here (he thinks). He flips them over once more, slings Dean’s legs over his arms, and presses into him without giving the man a chance to think or even breathe. “Is that adequate?” he taunts his “partner in crime.”

“Fuck,” Dean gasps.

“Good,” he says, then proceeds to roll his hips, testing Dean’s comfort. And since Dean seems quite comfortable (and impatient, doing everything he can to urge Cas deeper), Cas pulls out almost completely, then slams into him.

“Uh, fuck, Cas, please!” 

He repeats his actions.

“Please, babe, fuck!”

He can’t help himself then, the sweetness of the endearment mingled with the urgency of his plea too much for Cas to take. He pounds into him harder and harder, deeper and deeper, all the while staring at the man he can’t believe he gets to share everything with, the daring and the mundane. It’s overwhelming in the best way. 

Dean’s cries become louder, which is a problem because they’re outside, so he covers his mouth. “Shh,” he warns him, though his giggles soften the edge of it. “Your neighbors are gonna hate us.”

He thinks Dean mumbles something like “Fuck the neighbors,” but it’s muffled. 

“Are you being a brat?”

The corners of Dean’s eyes crinkle.

“You—” he laughs before cutting himself off and kissing Dean hard, matching his tongue’s thrusting with his pelvis’ until they’re moaning rather than laughing. Soon Dean is coming, throwing his head back and arching his spine. His spasms pull Cas over the edge, too, filling Dean just as he requested.

Once he catches his breath, Cas slips out of Dean, then collapses next to him, his arms burning with exertion. 

Dean snuggles up to him. “Well, good morning,” he jokes.

“Morning,” Cas replies with a smile. He catches Dean’s hand, which is wandering along his chest. “You okay?”

“Awesome.”

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to Dean’s temple. “Showers, breakfast, then groceries?”

“Sounds good. Gotta take a leak before anything else, though. You’re lucky I didn’t piss all over you. If you wanna have sex in the morning, you gotta let a guy whiz first, man.”

Cas rolls his eyes. His best friend is still very present despite the fact that they’re boyfriends now. “Oh, I must’ve missed your request to stop. When did you ask? When I was blowing you or when I was fucking you? Also, to be clear, I’m still not into being pissed on.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

“The orgasm you just had proves otherwise.”

Dean shrugs. “Eh, it was all right.”

Cas smothers a happy giggle at Dean’s statement that’s definitely an understatement. He hums and sits up, facing Dean. “You’re a brat. Do you know what I do with brats?”

Dean’s eyes light up. “No, what?”

Cas knows what he’s hoping for, but it’s not what he’s going to get. “They get torture,” he says in his thick Russian accent. He wiggles his fingers above Dean. 

“No. No!” Dean shrieks as Cas descends upon him, implementing the dreaded tickle torture. “I hate you!”

“You love me,” Cas grins, taking mercy on him. “Come on.” He scoots back to let Dean up, but Dean stops him. Dean sits up and threads his fingers through Cas’ hair. 

“I do love you,” he murmurs. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Misty-eyed, Cas presses his forehead to Dean’s. “I love you, too. Now go pee.”

He watches, laughing and feeling incredibly lucky, as Dean scrambles off the bed and out of the gazebo. 

* * *

The farmers’ market is hopping, and Dean is hopping with it.

He can hardly believe how _excited_ he is.

He’s with Cas, for real.

“Babe, we gotta get a celebratory pie for dessert.”

“Why just dessert? Let’s make the whole meal a pie spectacular.”

Dean stops them dead in the middle of the path and kisses him, because this man _gets_ him. And even though Cas clarifies that he meant a savory pie for the actual meal, Dean’s tickled. 

They stop at Colette and Cain’s stand to purchase something savory and something sweet. 

“Dan, Cal, how are you?” Cain greets them.

Dean winces. They’ve been a couple less than twenty-four hours and he already hates the reminder of their fake names. “Actually, it’s Dean and Cas,” he corrects him.

Cain’s brows knit together. “Dean and Cas?”

It’s only now that Dean thinks about the consequence of telling him their real names...they have to explain the fake names. _Shit._

“Yes. We were roleplaying before. Our apologies,” Cas answers. 

Cain’s brows crinkle in question, Cas’ brows raise in answer, and Cain seems to get it. “Oh,” he smiles knowingly.

“But we are together and very much in love. That’s not fake,” Cas assures him. 

Dean adores the plainness and absolute pride in which his boyfriend answered Cain. He squeezes his hand and Cas leans in and kisses him, short but so very sweet.

“Well _that_ I didn’t doubt for a moment. Pleasure to know you both, Dean and Cas. What can I get for you?”

It goes about the same way with a few of the other vendors they’ve gotten to know by name. Admitting to roleplaying is a little weird, but they seem to take it well (and one person even looked intrigued). It’s a relief being there as Cas and Dean, though—both because it’s less work to be themselves and because they’re having just as much fun as their vanilla roleplays, maybe more, which confirms that what they have is very, very real.

They stop by the grocery store on their way home, which is also fun, then head back to Dean’s. After unloading groceries, Dean goes out to the gazebo to clean up. Cas pops the pies in the oven to warm, then joins him. They carry the mattress back inside, the job much easier with two people rather than one. Dean throws the sheets in the washing machine while Cas unloads the dishwasher, then they make out lazily until lunch is ready. They eat all of their pies (ham and goat cheese hand pies, chicken pot pie, and of course, a sweet strawberry pie), then collapse with groans onto the couch to watch whatever game they can find on TV. 

When Dean wakes, he realizes that he didn’t see more than five minutes of the game before he fell asleep...and judging by Cas’ drowsy eyes, he probably didn’t, either. “We fell asleep, dude.”

“No, really?”

“Shut up.”

A slow, sleep-soft smile breaks across Cas’ face. “Make me,” he says, but it has no urgency or even desire. It’s simply a playful comeback, one of many over the years. 

Dean crawls onto his boyfriend’s lap. “Maybe later,” he murmurs as he pulls a throw over them and rests his head in the crook of Cas’ neck. Cas wraps his arms around him and hums, already falling back to sleep. Dean isn’t far behind.

An hour later, a knock at the door wakes them once more.

Dean groans. “Shit, people are here for game night. I gotta get the door.”

Cas clutches his waist. “Noooo.”

It might have felt clingy and controlling to Dean with anyone else, but with Cas it feels affectionate and playful. “Sorry, babe.” 

“Ugh.”

“Child.”

Cas blows a raspberry at him but releases him easily. Dean smacks a kiss on his cheek as he stands. 

Sam has arrived, food in hand, and since it’s ladies’ night, Jess is with him. Thirty minutes later, so has everyone else, including a guest Dean can’t believe showed his face here. He’s glad he was busy making their prosciutto, mozzarella and fig skewers when he arrived, or he would’ve decked him on sight. 

“How dare he show up as if he did nothing wrong!” Dean whispers through clenched teeth to Cas in the kitchen. “I should kick his ass right now just on principle.”

Cas lays a comforting hand on Dean’s chest. “Dean. He’s your friend. Do you really want to do that?”

“Yes!”

Cas rolls his eyes. Dean doesn’t understand how he’s staying so calm. “Look, I’m mad, too, but maybe it was a misunderstanding on his part? He was pretty drunk.”

“There was _no_ misunderstanding, Cas—”

“Okay, well, do you really want to make a scene?”

“He started it!”

Cas shoots him a fond, exasperated look. “You’ve been friends a long time. You should at least talk to him, get his side, find out why he did what he did. _Communicate._ ”

“You just don’t like conflict,” he huffs.

“I don’t like friendships breaking up without at least trying to sort things out. And neither do you.”

“Hmph.”

“Listen, we talked and figured things out, okay? And we’re going to tell everyone, so he’ll know that his efforts, whatever they were about, didn’t work.”

Dean folds his arms but relents. “Fine.” He smiles then, thinking of how they can not only tell everyone, but show everyone. 

Cas squints at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking?” 

“Thinking about how much I love you.” He smiles wider, making full use of his panty-dropping dimples.

“Uh huh,” Cas replies, clearly not believing him. “Get the thing from the fridge.”

“Yes, dear,” Dean answers with a softer, more genuine grin. They’re still so _them_ and he couldn’t be happier.

The “thing” is a huge basket of fruit, cheese, and pastries that they set in front of Bess and Garth. “We couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or kill you,” Dean announces as he and Cas sit across from them. “So we got you food. A good compromise.”

“And what is this gift basket for, exactly?” Bess asks, her eyes lit with humor and hopefulness.

“For your excellent acting skills...specifically, your ability to tell a _complete lie_ with a straight face,” Dean says with a squint.

Garth, Bess and Cas laugh while everyone else watches curiously.

“It’s not my fault you believed me,” she smirks as she pops a mini muffin into her mouth. 

“You were convincing!”

“You heard what you wanted to hear, my friend.”

Dean shrugs. He can’t deny that. 

“And besides, the only thing that wasn’t true about what I said was Cas _telling_ me all that. He didn’t have to tell me. It was written all over him, just like it was on you.”

Dean can’t deny that, either. “Yeah, well, we just wanted to say thanks.”

Bess and Garth beam.

“So, what’s going on, exactly?” Charlie asks.

“Well, you guys know we were doing...you know. But Cas and I talked and, uh...” He takes Cas’ hand and smiles, gazing at him as he continues, “we’re together now. For real.”

Cheers and applause ring in his ears, though Dean’s certain one person isn’t clapping.

“So how do Bess and Garth factor into this?” Andrea asks. 

Dean turns to her. “I went to see them after Cas and I decided to discontinue our, uh, arrangement—”

“Why did you decide to do that?” 

“It got real.” He glances at Cas, who smiles softly. It’s a genuine smile, not an act to mask the pain he now knows was there, the pain he’d been feeling, too. “And so, uh, I went to see them ‘cause I was upset, ‘cause I didn’t know that he felt like he did and he didn’t know that I felt like I did, you know? And they _misled_ me with their _trickery_ and convinced me that Cas loved me, so I felt way more comfortable telling him I loved _him_ , and, well, you know the rest.” 

“You don’t know the half of it, actually,” Cas tells their friends with a smirk. 

“And to protect your delicate ears, we won’t tell you.”

“You weren’t worried about the delicate ears of your neighbors this morning, bean.”

“No, I wasn’t, bee,” he grins, kissing Cas to hoots and hollers. “Mmm, I could do that all night, and I will later...but right now, let’s eat.”

Their new relationship is the talk of the table, from Sam’s “I can’t believe you actually said the L word” and Jess’ “We’ve been waiting _forever_ for you guys to get your heads out of your asses” to Crowley’s “Your pet names are disgustingly cute” and Charlie’s “You only fooled yourselves with your horrible acting.” Lee is mostly silent, smiling the fakest smile Dean’s ever seen. He looks incredibly peeved and uncomfortable.

Dean makes it his personal mission to keep him feeling that way all night.

Throughout dinner, he cozies up to Cas, sharing whispered words and lingering kisses. Between dinner and the game, he gets handsy as they clear the table and put the food away. And during the first game, he calls him every endearment he can think of and tells the group stories about some of their more domestic plans for the upcoming week, ones he’s sure will convince Lee that he’s become a shadow of himself.

But he doesn’t stop there, because seeing the judgment on Lee’s face pisses him off. So he ups the ante.

“The next game is called Mascarade. You have to try to figure out who’s who while you hide who you are. It’s a bluffing game. Bess oughta be good at it,” Dean says, side-eyeing her affectionately. That look turns much colder when he turns to the man across from him. “Lee, too. He’s really good at lying.”

Lee’s smile wavers for the briefest moment before he says, “Gotta be in my line of work, man.”

Dean’s about to retort when he feels Cas kick his foot. He relents. For now.

As the game progresses, Dean alternates between being sweet with Cas and being sour with Lee, inserting little comments here and there. In return, Lee issues slights that are so subtle that no one else seems to notice them...but Dean does. The more he’s in the man’s presence, the more pissed off he gets. 

He finally snaps when Lee makes a comment about Cas’ character being the Fool that’s clearly a backhanded comment about Cas himself.

“Well, at least he isn’t a liar like you.” 

Lee looks straight at him. His poker face is clearly on, but Dean sees right through him. Finally. “The point of the game is to lie.”

“Yup. But like us, you carried the game to real life, didn’t you?”

Lee has the audacity to look innocent. “What—”

“I know what you said to Cas.”

He huffs. “What I said—”

“And how fucking dare you come here and act like you didn’t lie to him about me!” Dean stands, too angry to sit still. “Makin’ him think I was gonna sleep with someone else? Makin’ him think he’s holdin’ me back? I don’t know what your problem is lately, but fuck you.”

Lee stands, too, and shouts, “ _My_ problem? I’m tryna _save_ you from slippin’ away!”

“I don’t need saving!”

“I’m trying to be your friend!”

“Well, if this is your idea of being a friend, then we can’t be friends. Friends are real with each other. Honest. They don’t try to hold you back. They’re everything Cas is and everything you’re not.”

With a stormy look, Lee growls, “Fine. Don’t need you, anyway.” He stomps out the door, slamming it closed behind him. 

“Look, honey, the trash took itself out,” Dean says to Cas as he drops into his chair, frustrated and hurt. _How did we ever get to this?_ Cas squeezes his leg.

“What was that all about?” Sam asks with concerned and curious eyes.

“Long story,” Dean mutters.

“Sounds like we need sustenance, then,” Charlie says as she stands, Thea standing with her. “Mocktail for Bess, beer for everybody else?”

Everyone nods, even Garth, who says, “Yup, it feels like a good night to get wasted. Let’s do it!”

Dean snickers with the rest of his friends, both at Garth’s language and the fact that he _will_ be wasted after his second beer. Garth doesn’t seem to mind their laughter, though; he’s comfortable with who he is. Dean casts a glance around the table. It feels good to be with them, to be _himself_ with them, just as they are with him.

As Thea hands him a beer, he resolves to put fake friends and fake selves out of his mind...and out of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so nobody got punched... yet. 😜
> 
> Tags for this chapter: Spy roleplay, oral sex, anal sex, passing reference to watersports, insecurity, conflict
> 
> Do you think Dean is really done with Lee? Hmm...
> 
> Next chapter: Ride a cowboy.


	22. Just Be You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how our dear boys are adjusting to their new roles, shall we? 
> 
> Chapter tags in the end if you need them!
> 
> If you’re able, I highly advise listening to the song “[Pony](https://youtu.be/FVaVydg28Qk)” by Ginuwine while reading the roleplay in this chapter, or at least listening before so you get a feel for it. It will definitely add to your experience. You can thank [Desirae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae) for the song suggestion (and check out her Destiel work!).

Nearly two months into his new relationship with Cas (and his new relationship with himself), Dean is already seeing the difference. He’s healthier, more relaxed. Happier.

He’s still getting used to actually _living_ like himself, though. For real.

“Dude, this is so _domestic_ ,” he moans to Cas as he surveys the yard full of people and blue _everything_. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have been caught dead here. Three years ago, he would’ve endured it uncomfortably. A year ago, he would’ve denied he enjoyed it but secretly eaten it up. And today…well.

“Bitch, please, you love it. Look, there’s food, friends, music...all stuff you like.”

“Dude, shut _up_ , I’m trying to be cool.”

Cas, dressed in his knock-off Birks, khaki pants, a white t-shirt, and bright coral and navy striped suspenders (friggin’ hot-ass dork—Dean is gonna _beg_ Cas to fuck him later) squints at him. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “I dunno.” 

“Well, don’t be cool. Just be you.”

“Excuse me?” Dean’s mouth drops open in mock offense. “Are you saying I’m not cool?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very, very cool.”

“Oh, well then, probably best not to sully yourself with this sort of thing. You should wait in the car while the rest of us talk, stuff our faces, and play games. I mean, it’ll be fun for us squares, but I wouldn’t want you to feel unclean.”

Dean knows he’s being ridiculous right now, and he knows why—his annual visit to his father last weekend. It’s strange—he’s lived away from him for years now, he’s worked hard to become his own person and he _likes_ who he is, but two little days dragged him into his personal hell again, making him the devoted yet angry youth whose own needs and desires were constantly pushed aside for everyone else.

Cas sees through his bullshit, though, and he knows just how to drag his ass right out of hell again. Dean rests his hands on his boyfriend’s hips. “I can always count on you to get me out of my funk, honeybee,” he smiles gratefully.

“Yes, you can,” Cas assures him, wrapping his arms around his neck. “And hey, maybe I can counteract this extreme domesticity with a little naughtiness later.” 

He presses a warm, wet kiss to Dean’s lips that Dean wants to sink into. And since they’re mostly hidden from the rest of the guests by the garage, he does, moaning softly as Cas opens for him. They spend a few moments making out, more for comfort and affirmation than anything else. 

At least for Dean.

“Call me what you call me in the bedroom,” Cas whispers. “When you’re hot for me and you can barely think. It makes me crazy.”

“Mmm...sweetheart,” he purrs against his lips.

“Not that one.”

“Honey.”

“No.”

“Babe?”

“Sooo close, love. C’mon. Give me what I want.”

“Baby?”

Cas pulls a small clothespin off Dean’s shirt with a devilish grin. “Yoink. Made you say it.”

“Hey!” Dean cries, annoyed with himself for already losing the clothespin for the “Don’t Say Baby” game that they _just_ picked up as they came in. “You little cheat!”

“Guess you’ll just have to try to get someone else’s,” he says casually. “Or get mine.” He pitches his voice lower. “You wanna snatch my pin, Dean? Make it yours?” He licks his lips exaggeratedly, then winks at him for good measure, which always makes Dean laugh.

“Fuckin’ right I do,” he says, wrapping him in a grateful hug for always being there for him, meeting him right where he is. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Come on. Let’s go soak in disgusting domesticity.”

Disgusting domesticity, it turns out, isn’t disgusting at all.

The baby shower isn’t what Dean expected—he feared ’50s do-wop, finger sandwiches, and Stepford wives drooling over Bess’ protruding belly. Instead, there’s rock music, smoked brisket, and raucous laughter as people goof around in the photo booth, drink blue mocktails, write silly (or sweet) messages on diapers, and try to catch each other saying forbidden words. It’s...a party. Just a gathering of people. Mature, really nice people who are there to celebrate a growing family but who do it with class and good humor, people who know how to have fun even when copious amounts of booze and babes aren’t on the menu. 

He has a fantastic time.

“That was fun, even if it was disgustingly domestic,” Dean jokes when he and Cas arrive back at his place.

“That’s because it was your kind of domestic.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it was the stuff you enjoy, the stuff that means home and family to you.”

Dean grabs the favor bags from the shower—he always thought giving gifts to the guests was stupid, but he’s not turning down flavored milks, cupcakes, and jars of vanilla-infused honey, because that shit’s delicious—then raises his brows in question as he looks at Cas over Baby’s roof, still not quite sure what he’s saying. 

“Domestic just means ‘pertaining to home and family,’ right?” Cas asks.

“Yeeeah, I guess.” He walks around the car to meet Cas, and they trot up the stairs together.

“Okay, so...everyone’s idea of domesticity should be different, then.” Cas unlocks the house and ushers Dean inside. Dean has the brief but powerful thought that Cas looks damn good unlocking the door to Dean’s house...Dean’s house that’s always a little colder, a little emptier when Cas isn’t there.

“Okay.” 

“So…” Cas takes the gift bags from Dean and sets them on the counter, then tugs him into his arms. “‘Domestic’ can be anything you want. It can be weekend hikes. It can be sports and beer. It can be going to sex clubs or eating sushi off a hairy guy’s chest.” Dean screws his face in disgust and Cas laughs. “Yeah, that’s not my idea of domestic, either, but it’s someone’s. Point is, it doesn’t have to be meatloaf and frilly aprons...unless you want it to be.” He wiggles his brows. “Maybe you’d like me in a frilly apron?”

Dean backs up and flicks his eyes up and down Cas’ taut body. He nods with a thoughtful pout. “I could get into that.”

“I’d like you to get into it,” Cas purrs. He presses their foreheads together. “Can you get into the idea of a roleplay tonight?”

That perks Dean’s interest even more. They haven’t done any roleplays since the weekend they started dating. Their sex life has been plenty of fun (and definitely not boring) without them...but a roleplay wouldn’t be unwelcome and might take him out of his head. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, now I have all kinds of filthy thoughts about being a frisky maid, but I don’t have the outfit, so...how about you be the guy who comes to see me for a private lap dance that turns into more, hmm?”

 _Mmm._ “You gonna dance for me, handsome?”

“Poorly, but yes.”

“No way you can do it poorly.”

“Oh, I promise I can. I’m less ‘Tom Holland performing “Umbrella”’ and more ‘drunk guy stumbling home from a frat party’.”

Dean chuckles. “I’m gonna love it, babe.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “We’ll see. If you don’t, hopefully the sex will make up for it.”

With a fond eyeroll of his own, Dean presses his lips to Cas’. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

An hour later, after watching some pole dancing online at Cas’ insistence (“it’s part of the roleplay, hon”), Dean approaches his own bedroom door and knocks. He hears Cas—no, _Cal_ , his favorite dancer at the club and the guy he _finally_ got up the nerve to get a private dance with—tell him he can come in.

When he does, his jaw practically hits the floor. Cas is wearing _his_ clothes—his jeans, his boots, his red shirt with what looks like his black t-shirt, and the cowboy hat he got on a trip with his brother to Texas last year. With his blue eyes squinting at him, assessing him, he’s straight out of all of Dean’s cowboy fantasies. 

“Fancy meeting you here, partner,” Cas smirks. He walks up to him with an exaggerated swagger. “I’ve seen you from the stage plenty of times. Glad you finally came to see me. Sit, sweetheart.”

Dean sits on the chair in the middle of the floor. It reminds him of the night they were spies and he was tied to this very chair. He was already getting hard between the pole dancing videos and looking at Cas in his clothes, but thinking about how intimidatingly hot Cas was as a spy gets him the rest of the way there. 

Once he’s seated, Cas trails a finger down his jaw and says, “Let’s get this party started, shall we?” before he taps his phone and turns his back to him.

Dean groans as “Pony” starts blasting through his Bluetooth speaker and Cas stands before him, hands on his glorious ass. 

“Jesus.”

Cas turns, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he blinks slowly, peering at him from under his lashes. He can’t wink for shit, but his smoulder is on point. “Save your blasphemy for when I actually move, sweetheart.”

Now Dean’s thinking about all kinds of blasphemous roleplays that will definitely send him to hell. 

And if those thoughts don’t, his thoughts about ravishing Cas will.

Cas gyrates his hips, his round, full ass just out of reach and teasing Dean in the sweetest sort of torture. His thighs are testing the seams of his borrowed jeans. Dean secretly hopes they rip.

The torture intensifies when Cas turns to face him.

He slowly pops the buttons of his red shirt open and slides it off, eyes locked on Dean’s. The t-shirt follows, peeled off one-handed after he tosses his hat at Dean’s feet. He kicks it out of the way as he approaches. Hungry with anticipation, Dean can’t help but taste him when Cas straddles him and slowly lowers himself into his lap, pressing Dean’s face against his torso. 

Cas grinds.

Dean whimpers.

“Look at me, baby. Don’t want you to miss the show.”

He meets Cas’ molten stare. Cas is utterly transformed, hardly recognizable like this. He’s confident, sassy, sexy. He’s got Dean right where he wants him and he _knows_ it.

“You’re good at this.”

“It’s not my first rodeo, baby.” He grinds down a few more times, drawing gasps from Dean, then stands. “You wanna see what’s underneath, sweetheart?”

Dean nods, slack-jawed.

Cas kicks off his boots, then leans forward in stockinged feet and kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy. He steps back, feet now bare. _Cool trick_ , Dean thinks.

But the best trick is yet to come.

Cas parades around a bit, making a show of unzipping his pants and working them down with some effort (his thighs are _really_ thick). It’s when he straightens up that Dean notices what _other_ item of Dean’s he’s wearing.

_The panties._

Dean’s so hard, he could count the change in his pocket with his dick.

“Even rough-and-tumble cowboys like to feel pretty sometimes,” he explains as he yanks Dean to his feet and works his jeans and underwear down.

Dean can’t stop staring at how his boyfriend fills out his panties.

“You’re cute when you’re speechless,” Cas whispers in his ear. “Sit, handsome.”

The lap dance is twice as arousing with Cas’ silk-wrapped cock rubbing against his bare one as he undulates to the beat and mouths the lyrics. Dean is quickly losing his faculties, thrilled at Cas wearing his clothes, accepting his kinks, being his badass self in another way that he trusts Dean and _only_ Dean with. 

Cas slips his hand under them and cups Dean’s balls, and between that and the silky friction, it’s over. He comes all over the panties, all over Cas and himself. He slouches into the seat, loose-limbed.

“Mmm, I do love riding a stud,” Cas purrs, making Dean chuckle in his post-orgasmic haze. Dean hears the music loop fade out, then feels a cool cloth being passed over him. “Take your time, handsome. I have to go to my next rodeo. Hope I can rope you in again sometime.” Cas plants a kiss on his cheek. A moment later, the door opens, then closes. 

Dean blinks his eyes open and smiles, because while it was awesome to have a sexy stranger dance for him and get him off in the back room of a club, it’s even more awesome that he has a sweet, thoughtful, dorky boyfriend to cuddle and have breakfast with, and that they’re the same guy. 

* * *

Cas hums as he makes a simple breakfast of chicken sausage patties and fruit cups. His thighs are pleasantly sore from both the lap dance he gave Dean and, later, the fucking he gave him when Dean cornered him in the guest bedroom, where he was dressing after their roleplay. 

That roleplay had been utterly embarrassing to do. He felt completely out of his element (and, honestly, like he wanted to throw up from nerves). But when they talked about it after making love, Dean assured him that he “rocked it,” that it was “fuckin’ hot” and he “definitely” wanted to do it again. When Cas whined that it wasn’t really _him_ , Dean reminded him that it _was_ him—maybe it didn’t fit quite right, maybe it felt strange, but it was still him.

He was right. And today, Cas hopes to remind Dean of the same.

Dean’s adjustment to “domestic” life has been good—way better than Cas expected, truth be told. Since his visit with his father last weekend, though, he’s been a little out of sorts. So today, it’s all about helping Dean be who he knows he wants to be, who he _is_. 

“Morning, hon,” he smiles as Dean shuffles into the kitchen. 

Sleep-warm arms wrap around him. “Hey babe,” Dean mumbles into his shoulder.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

A muffled laugh warms his skin through his t-shirt. “Mmm. Good. Dreamt of cowboys.”

Cas snickers and jostles him. “That’s good. I have grub for you, partner. Sit.”

Dean squeezes him tighter around the waist. “Love it when you’re bossy.”

“You do, hmm?”

“Mmm. You haven’t spanked me in a while.”

“You’ve been well-behaved. Or as well-behaved as a brat like you can be.”

“Is that it? Well, shit, I’m gonna have to be downright rotten now.”

Laughing brightly at his boyfriend, he reaches behind him and slaps Dean’s ass playfully, then shifts out of his arms. “Come on. We have stuff to do today.”

After breakfast, they run some errands, including visits to the dry cleaner, the ATM, and Cas’ apartment to pick up the sneakers he forgot to pack in his overnight bag. Crowley smirks, asking Dean why he hasn’t cleared a side of his closet for Cas’ things yet. Cas shuts his roommate down before Dean can answer. That’s not a subject he wants Dean to feel pressured about.

When four o’clock rolls around, they make their way to Cuevas Archery. As the name suggests, it’s owned by Jesse and Cesar Cuevas, a couple they met at Bess and Garth’s baby shower yesterday. They hit it off with the men right away, particularly Dean, and when the couple suggested they come by to shoot a few arrows, Cas was quick to accept and suggested a visit to a local brewpub after for dinner. He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity presented: a chance to spend time with two married men who like beer, tattoos, and shooting things, living happily in their own version of domestic bliss. 

“Glad you guys could make it,” Jesse greets them with hearty handshakes.

“Same, man,” Dean says. 

“You ready to shoot stuff?”

“Lemme at it.”

Cas grins at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm.

Shooting arrows is harder than it looks. They both have miserable starts. By the time they wrap up, though, they’ve made some progress. Cas even hit the bullseye once, which led to cheers and a big kiss on his cheek from a proud Dean. 

At the brewpub, they order thick burgers and hand-cut fries all around, and they share a couple of flights before Cas settles on an oatmeal stout he favors and Dean orders a full pour of an Irish red. The conversation is easy, and even though there are topics Cas doesn’t follow or has zero interest in (all of them grew up as outdoorsmen except for Cas, whose idea of being an outdoorsman growing up was mowing the lawn when forced), he doesn’t feel excluded or out of place as he often does in these sorts of situations. Dean is completely enamored, his eyes shining from more than just the alcohol, and it does Cas’ heart good to see it. 

They have such a great time that they invite the couple back to Dean’s, where they play some cards and nurse vanilla porters until they’re all surprised at how much time has passed. 

“We gotta roll,” Jesse says apologetically as the clock strikes ten. “Gotta stop by work early tomorrow, then do our other shit.”

“I hate the other shit,” Cesar grumbles.

“Aww, come on, you love housework day.”

“Fuck you. I _hate_ housework day, you neat freak.”

“Suck it up, buttercup.”

Cas and Dean chuckle at their exchange. Cas wonders if they’ll be utterly _married_ like that someday. He tries not to let himself get too far into the thought. 

Dean grabs their numbers and invites them over for the next game night, handshakes are exchanged once again, and then they’re alone.

“You’re stayin’, right?” Dean asks. 

It’s the question Dean has asked him every weekend since they started dating, with Cas answering _If you want_ each time. Dean always looks slightly frustrated with him, but he refuses to assume. He’s never stayed on a Sunday, though, not since they became a real couple. “I have to work tomorrow.”

“So?”

“So I don’t have any work clothes with me.”

“You can’t leave. You don’t have all the alcohol out of your system yet.”

“I can call a ride—”

“And what about tomorrow? Your car will be here.”

“Crowley can bring me. We work at the same place, remember?”

Dean folds his arms and stares at his feet. “You could get up a little earlier and stop by your apartment before work for clothes.”

Cas doesn’t relish the thought of getting up earlier than he has to on a Monday, but he doesn’t like the frown on Dean’s face or uncertainty in his voice, either...and the thought of spending another night and morning with him is enough to tip the scales. “I could—”

“Good,” he says with a smile and a clap of his hands. “Let’s go to bed.”

Eyes catching the messy table, Cas says, “We should probably clean up first—” 

Dean catches Cas’ arm. “No. You. Me. Bed.”

Cas chuckles as he lets himself be led. “Okay, caveman.”

“Hey, we haven’t done that roleplay yet.”

“I’m...not even sure how that would be enjoyable. Wouldn’t it just be a lot of grunting and hair-pulling and...never mind.”

Dean bursts into a full-body laugh. Cas giggles at his own joke, a little drunk and a lot happy.

“That was fun,” Dean declares softly as they strip to their underwear.

“It was. I’m glad you had fun.”

“Yeah. Thanks for makin’ it happen.”

“Sure.”

Cas turns off the light, then climbs into bed on what he considers “his” side. They gravitate toward each other, Dean ending up in Cas’ arms and Cas stroking his hair. 

“I think they’re, like, our first couple friends,” Dean says.

“Besides Garth and Bess, Benny and Andrea, Sam and Jess, Charlie and Thea—”

“Like since we became a couple, smartass. Our first _us_ friends. Friends we made together.”

“Oh. I guess so, yeah.”

“It’s...cool.”

Cas senses something’s on Dean’s mind. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.”

Dean is silent for a few moments. Cas waits him out.

“Is it always gonna be like that? Like, us doing stuff together with friends?”

Cas isn’t sure what answer Dean’s hoping for. He shrugs. “I imagine we’ll make our own rules about that. But I think sometimes we’ll do our stuff individually with friends, and sometimes we'll do stuff together with friends. That’s what I’d like.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” He pauses, his hand idly tracing Cas’ pec. “Uh, Cesar was tellin’ me about a gun range he likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He invited both of us, but I know it’s not your thing, and—”

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Go to the gun range with Cesar.”

“I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“And I appreciate that. As you said, though, it’s not my thing. So you do your thing. Have fun.”

“You sure?”

“Hon, even as close as we were as friends, we still did our own thing, too, and I don’t want that to change just because we’re a couple now. We’ve been spending most of our time together as a couple these last two months because everything’s new, and it’s been great, but I don’t expect us to keep that up long-term. We don’t need to be tied at the...everything. We’re still our own people who have interests outside of each other.”

Dean snuggles into his chest. “I fuckin’ love you, you know that?”

“I fuckin’ love you, too,” Cas chuckles. “Is that what's been on your mind?”

“Some. Guess my visit with Dad brought stuff up.” 

“Mmm. I figured.”

“Yeah. You know how it is.” 

“Mmmhmm.” And because he knows his boyfriend, Cas asks, “How about the Lee stuff? Has that been on your mind?”

“Fuckin’ dick.”

“So a little bit, then.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“Don’t care.”

“Mmm, I don’t buy that.”

Dean grunts. 

“You can still be friends with him, you know. If you want to. I won’t be mad.”

“No.”

“I just wonder if you miss him, maybe, or something.”

“No.”

“It weighs on you, hon, I know it does. You could at least talk to him.”

Dean slings a leg over Cas’. “No.”

Cas ruffles his hair. “Okay.” _One battle at a time._

They lie quietly for a while, but Cas doesn’t sleep, sensing the tension still present in Dean’s muscles and breath. 

“We’re gonna keep doing couple stuff too, though, right?” Dean asks eventually.

“Well, yes, of course, if you want to.”

“You always say that— _if you want to_. Of course I want to. Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t be insecure.”

“Yes, sir. I will cease feeling insecure in three, two…okay, done.” 

Dean chuckles. “Sorry. Like I'm one to talk, huh?”

Cas doesn’t generally think of Dean as insecure, but about this couple stuff, maybe he is. Sometimes, anyway. “Hmm.”

“Don’t hum at me. This shit’s hard.”

Refraining from making a childish joke like he might otherwise, Cas simply hugs Dean tighter. “I know, bean.”

“I know you do.” He kisses the center of his chest. “You know it all.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

This time, Dean nips him, making Cas squeal. 

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get.”

“Brat.”

“You’re the brat.”

“You bit me.”

“You loved it.”

“You’re the one who loves to be bitten, Dean.” Cas follows his gentle teasing with a kiss to Dean’s hair and a contented sigh. 

Dean breathes one of his own, then tugs Cas down until they’re forehead to forehead. He cups Cas’ jaw and whispers, “I love it, you know.”

“I know,” he says, amused.

“Not the biting. The couple stuff. Having couple friends, doing couple things, being ‘domestic’. I was afraid of it for a long time, but...I really do love it, even if I’m still breaking in this new me, you know?”

 _Oh._ Cas’ heart leaps, thrilled with the vulnerability Dean’s entrusted to him, but he keeps his response light. “I know. I’m your _best_ best friend. I know these things about you.”

“Yeah, you are. And it’s ’cause of you that I love it so much. It’s _our_ little version of domestic life, something I could only have with you.”

Dean kisses his nose, then tucks himself under Cas’ chin. Thinking about how far Dean’s come from the man afraid of any hint of domesticity to this, Cas wipes a tear from his eye. There have been hurdles to jump, and there will continue to be, on both sides, but Cas feels they’re making something truly special here, a relationship that can only be born from the deepest friendship, one in which they face their fears and insecurities head-on, fully themselves.

“You should bring some clothes to keep here, if you want to,” Dean murmurs, drifting away.

Cas smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Stripper roleplay, watching pole dancing videos, clothes sharing, panties, frotting, insecurity, light angst, lots of happy
> 
> Damn, they're cute, aren't they? But you wanted to know more about Lee, right? Are you disappointed that you didn't get enough of that this time? Tune in next time for that and more. ;)


	23. Changing Roles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaking off old roles and trying on new ones.

“You set me up.”

“No, but I can’t say I didn’t suspect he’d be here.”

Dean scowls.

“Go talk to him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. It’s been months. I’m done.”

“He’s been your friend for years. You’re not done.”

“I _am_ done.”

“You’re _not_. We’ve talked about this many times. You _want_ to be done, but you’re not. It still bothers you.”

“And how do you know that, Smarty Pants?”

“Because I know you, bean.”

Dean folds his arms. “Don’t call me that when I’m trying to be annoyed with you.”

“I do what I want.” Cas grins, then winks. 

Dean starts to laugh despite himself. His boyfriend is so damn cute. He’s also right. “Come dance with me.”

“You don’t like dancing.”

“I like dancing with you.”

“No. Stop avoiding it. Go talk to him. Having that tough conversation will help you be done. Or closer to done.”

“I’m don—”

“You can’t stop looking at him, and he’s been looking your way, too. You’re not done yet.” Cas’ face softens as he brushes his hand over Dean’s heart. “I know it’s hard, but this limbo is hard on you, too. Just...go get some closure or something. Tie the loose end. Whatever.” 

“I’ll tie _you_ ,” Dean mutters.

"Ooh," Cas rumbles, popping his brows in interest.

Dean laughs, just as he's sure Cas wanted. “Fine, you pain in the ass. But give me your beer. If I’m gonna talk to him, I want alcohol.”

“That’s not the healthiest coping mechanism,” Cas comments with a roll of his eyes, but hands him his beer anyway. “Good luck, babe.”

“Thanks.” He pecks Cas on the lips, then starts his way to Lee on the other side of the club.

They were supposed to be blowing off steam after a tough week—having a few laughs, a couple of drinks, and maybe a little something when they got back to his place (which is practically Cas’ now, too, since he brought half his wardrobe over a couple of months ago). But they’d only been there a few minutes when he noticed Lee. He shouldn’t have been surprised—it was Friday night and it was their usual (or what used to be their usual) place—but it still took him aback. He hasn’t seen the guy in something like four months now, since he and Cas started dating, though Benny’s mentioned him a time or two and hinted that he wanted to reconnect. Dean wasn’t ready before—he had himself to sort out, Cas to enjoy, and anger that hadn’t gone away yet—and he’s not ready to be best buds now, either. But he and Cas have talked many, many times about it, like he said, and he thinks he’s ready to hash some things out. Maybe.

Dean leans on the bar next to him. “Hey.”

Lee turns and does a double-take. “Hey.”

“You wanna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

Dean huffs. “Never mind—”

“No, I—I do.”

“Fine. Not here. Let’s go outside.”

They find a quiet spot on the side of the building. 

“How’ve you been?”

Dean’s not in the mood for small talk. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

 _The audacity…_ “You know what. Try to split us. Lie to Cas. And _don’t_ tell me you didn’t.”

Lee folds his arms, looking like he’s ready to argue, but then sighs. “Because you weren’t you—”

“Really? That again?”

He lights a cigarette. Dean turns away to collect his thoughts. He thinks about some of the things he and Cas have talked about. One talk in particular stands out:

_“Maybe he was afraid of losing you, Dean, and maybe that fear made him lash out. People do all kinds of shit when they’re afraid.”_

_“Yeah, but lie like that? Try to drive a wedge between us? How did he ever think that would work?”_

_“Insecurity does funny things, and people do funny things in response. Me, I tried to keep up with you as you changed, so I changed myself some and held some things back from you. Maybe he did the opposite—he couldn’t keep up with you as you changed, so he tried to keep you the same.”_

Thinking about that conversation softens him some. He knows how Cas’ insecurity messed him up (still does occasionally). Maybe it’s the same with Lee. “You didn’t like how I was changing,” Dean says, turning back to Lee.

“No, I didn’t. He was—”

“No. This isn’t about Cas. This is about me not being the guy that you knew, or that you thought you knew, anyway, and what you—”

“Yeah, and I was concerned.”

“I wasn’t in danger.”

“Hey, he coulda been manipulating you, playin’ games with your head—”

“Dude, really? _Cas_? Come on.”

Lee shakes his head. “Okay, fine. But you were _different_ , and it didn’t make sense. You weren’t you.”

Knowing that Cas changed and hid certain things about himself for Dean makes Dean realize, with sudden clarity, that he did the very same thing with Lee. Maybe it wasn’t just that Lee felt insecure about him changing...maybe Lee didn’t even know _why_ he was changing. Lee didn’t know the real him. No wonder it was scary and confusing to him. “Man, I got news for you. The guy I was with you wasn’t really me.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean...look, when we met I was young and finally out on my own, away from my family responsibilities and control and...what can I say? I was trying on different roles, figuring out who I was. You were cool. I liked you, wanted to...be like you, I guess. So I tried on that role. But that role didn’t fit me, and I realized it more and more as I watched Cas and my brother grow up, as I got a good job and bought a house, as I made new friends and got dissatisfied with hookups, as I got together with Cas and tried new roles. Who I am right now...I’m more _me_ than I’ve ever been. I’m not going back to who I was.”

Lee looks at him but says nothing.

“See, there are things I used to hate about myself, things I thought I was only because of my family situation, and I rebelled against them. But I don’t have to rebel anymore. Now I’m embracing them and shit, ‘cause I’m free to be me and they’re me...like, the real me, and I like them. I like me, as saccharine as that sounds.”

Lee takes a long drag of his cigarette, kicking at a weed that’s poking through a crack in the asphalt. 

Dean grows uneasy at sharing so much about himself with no response. “You...you get what I’m saying? Does it make sense now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dean huffs. They stand in silence for a while, Dean waiting for Lee to say something about his part in this mess, about his own feelings, about his insecurities, about how he didn’t know or he was wrong or he’s sorry or _anything_. When he doesn’t and the silence becomes oppressive and disconcerting, Dean presses on.

“Look, it wasn’t right, but maybe I get why you did what you did. Cas and I have talked about it, and he said some things that made sense. I’m willing to forgive you for the shit you pulled. But I’m never gonna be who I was again. I still like the club, I like going out and having a good time with friends, but I’m happy with myself and with Cas and I’m not doing the hookup thing or the getting wasted thing anymore.” 

Lee flicks the ash from his cigarette but stays silent. Dean’s not sure what happens now. Do they become friends again now that they’ve talked or do they walk away? He’s never walked away from a friend before (not even from Lee, really—Lee walked away from him after their fight and Dean just ignored his existence afterward). He _should_ walk away, probably, but it’s hard. 

Not knowing what else to do, Dean says, “So, if you can back off that hookup and getting trashed shit, maybe we can let bygones be bygones and hang out or somethin’.”

Lee blows a puff of smoke. “That’s still who I am, though. I ain’t livin’ for anyone else. Just me.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask you to be someone you’re not. Just don’t push it on _me_.”

Lee nods minutely. 

“Cool.” Dean tucks his free hand in his pocket and takes a sip of the beer he’s been holding but hasn’t needed. An important thought pops into his head then, so he points to Lee and adds, “One thing, though. If we’re gonna do this, you can’t treat Cas like shit. That won’t fucking fly with me. You don’t have to like him, but that shit you pulled...no. That was the wrong thing to do, no matter how you were feeling or how ‘concerned’ you were or whatever shit. Cas, man, he’s patient and he’ll put up with a lot for my sake, always has, but he shouldn’t have to. You need to treat him with respect or we’re done. I mean it.”

Lee huffs, then shakes his head and sighs, a slight smile tipping the corner of his mouth. “Can’t believe he’s the one who hooked you. Don’t know what you see in that nerd.” He tosses his cigarette butt to the ground and smothers it.

Dean purses his lips. He’s not sure if Lee’s joking or serious. “That ‘nerd’ is fuckin’ awesome.”

“Ain't my type, man, but whatever.”

He frowns at that, trying to parse it out, but gives up quickly and shrugs. Cas doesn’t see Lee’s appeal, either, Dean’s pretty certain. “So, we in agreement or what?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll let you ‘grow’ and I’ll leave your boy toy alone.”

Dean snorts softly. Lee’s even worse at feelings talk than he is. “Okay, man.”

With that, they head back inside. Lee follows him to the bar, where Dean buys him a beer, plus another to replace the one he borrowed from Cas. He follows him to his table, too, where Cas is sitting with Ash, Pam, Maddie, and a couple of women Dean doesn’t know who certainly see _something_ in Cas that Lee doesn’t. Dean’s not worried, though. He knows where Cas’ heart lies.

That doesn’t stop him from wedging between them and planting a firm, claiming kiss on his boyfriend’s mouth. “Hey, babe.” 

“Hey,” Cas answers, his mouth curled in amusement but his eyes lit with concern. He furrows his brows, silently checking in like he always does, like he’s always done. 

The storm in Dean’s body settles, his howling nerves quieting and the wind gusts in his lungs calming to a gentle breeze. 

_God, I love him._

He sits on Cas’ lap and kisses his cheek, then whispers in his ear, “I’m okay.” _Now_ , he adds silently. 

Cas squeezes his waist, an _I’m proud of you_ that Dean revels in.

* * *

Dean is on edge, Cas can tell. He’s just not sure why.

He thought Dean would feel better—he has Lee back, it seems, and he’s talking and laughing with friends old and new—but his energy doesn’t feel quite right. He’s too “on,” too bright and sparkly.

“You still want to dance?” Cas asks after a while, hoping to get him alone for a bit.

“Yeah.”

On the dance floor, they barely engage in actual dancing—Dean holds him too tight, kisses him too deep, grinds into him too hard. 

Cas breaks their liplock. “Hon? What’s wrong? Not that I dislike what you’re doing, but you seem upset.”

Dean backs up only enough to speak. “I want you.”

“And I you, but that’s nothing new. So what’s going on?”

Dean sighs. “Can we get out of here?”

“Of course.”

They make the rounds and say goodbye to everyone, Lee telling Dean he’ll text him and Dean agreeing with enthusiasm and telling Lee they should grab dinner some night soon. It doesn’t feel genuine, though, and when they get to Dean’s, Cas finds out why.

“Thought I’d feel better,” Dean confesses, hands joined between them on the couch. 

“I thought so, too. What’s up?”

“We decided to try again, but when I think about hanging out with him, I just... you know that lady who has a whole thing about keeping things only if they bring you joy?”

“Marie Kondo.”

“Yeah. Well...the more I think about it, the more unsure I am that keeping him will bring me joy.”

Cas nods. He knows it must be difficult for Dean to be having these thoughts—he’s such a loyal guy. Cas rubs his thumb, encouraging him to continue.

“So, like, we talked, okay? And it was...I mean, first he acted all cool, like I asked if he wanted to talk and he was like ‘About what’ even though he knew damn well about what. Should’ve been my first clue about where this was going. Then we went outside and he went right into his same bullshit about how I was changing and he was concerned and shit. He tried to pin that on you, by the way.”

Cas isn’t surprised. However… “Could he have been? Sincerely concerned about you for some reason?”

“I doubt it. I didn’t get that feeling, you know? It was more ‘I was concerned because I didn’t like it’ rather than ‘I was concerned because I thought something was happening to you.’”

“Gotcha.”

“I should’ve walked right then.”

Cas squeezes his hand and shakes his head.

“And then...fuck, then I just started blabbering about myself, hoping he’d get it, you know? He didn’t...he didn’t say anything to any of it. Our whole conversation, I tried to give him openings to acknowledge me, to explain himself, to apologize...I never got an apology, you know that?”

Cas grimaces. He’s not surprised at that, either. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who needs to apologize,” Dean teases, though his smile is sad.

“Oh, hon.” Cas releases his hand to fold him into a hug. 

Dean sighs, his physical and emotional weight transferred to Cas’ embrace. Cas holds him, rubbing his back soothingly. 

“Spilled my guts, said all this—fuck, I wasn’t even gonna be friends with him again ‘cause of what he did, then I felt all guilty and shit so I figured maybe I should give him a chance, and I got nothing.”

“I know.”

Dean nuzzles into Cas’ neck. “It was just like talking to my father. I made a fucking fool of myself, bent over backwards, and he said just enough to shut me up. And I took it. I took it like I was so desperate to eat that crumbs were better than nothing.”

Cas scratches lightly through Dean’s hair, waiting for him to sift through his thoughts. 

“Dad wonders why we only make the trip out to see him every year or two since he moved back to Kansas. It's because he hasn’t changed. I used to worship him when I was a kid, you know that? I did. But then I smartened up and realized what was going on, and then I got mad. I got sick of his controlling bullshit, his façade of competence when I was the one keeping things together, his...using me to make him feel good about himself. That’s why I eventually left. 

“But man, I looked for people just like him even when I was free. Fell right back into that shit with Lee. He’s the same sort of guy—loud and showy, like he’s got it all together, but he’s just an insecure fucker like the rest of us. And there I’ve been all these years, stroking his ego while he kept me one-down, held me back, kept me from growing. Fuckin’ daddy issues, man. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Should’ve listened to my gut and just let him go. Or punched him.” He adjusts himself to snuggle closer into Cas.

Cas chuckles briefly at “punched him,” then says, “You’re not an idiot, Dean. Your heart was in the right place. I’m sorry his wasn’t.”

Dean grunts. “Can’t believe it took me this long to see it.”

“Well, maybe you needed him in your life.”

“Pfft.”

“No, really. We need all kinds of friends in our lives. Maybe you needed a friend like Lee to figure out what you really want in a friend. Or maybe you needed him to help you work out that stuff with your father without having to work it out directly with him when you weren’t ready. Maybe you needed him to get stronger.”

“Mmm.”

“‘Mmm’? ‘Mmm’ as in you agree or ‘Mmm’ as in you think I’m spouting bullshit?”

Dean merely snickers.

“Hey, fuck you. I’ll have you know I took one entire psychology class my freshman year of college.” He kisses Dean’s hair.

“You earned that A with me, for sure.”

“I only got a B, actually.”

“You get an A now.”

Cas grins softly, hugging him tighter. “Is that right, professor?”

Dean stills. “Mmm. _That_ gives me ideas.”

He can’t help a fond chuckle. “Is there _anything_ that doesn’t give you ideas about sex?”

“Nope.”

“We should go to a more appropriate place for such thoughts, then.”

“See, that’s why you’d be the professor, not me. You’re smart.”

“Stop that,” Cas admonishes him with a pinch, then pulls him to standing. They shuffle to Dean’s bedroom. 

Once they’re in bed, Cas can tell that the night’s events and their conversation aren’t far from Dean’s mind. So instead of getting their groove on, they get their cuddles on—Cas kisses him gently, then draws him against his shoulder, much like they were in the living room. Dean sinks into it and sighs.

Humming softly, Cas rests his head atop Dean’s and picks up their conversation where it left off. “You know, hon, you don’t have to be friends with Lee. You can change your mind.”

“I know,” he replies, though by his soft, uncertain tone, he doesn’t.

“Or if that doesn’t feel right, you can choose how close you want to be, which circle he fits into. He was in your closest circle, but maybe he doesn’t fit there anymore. Or maybe he does, but he’ll have to work on himself and your relationship before you let him back in.”

“Huh. Yeah, maybe.” He pauses. “Man, my circles sure have gotten fucked with a lot the past few months.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like, Sam and Jess stayed put, obviously, and Charlie and Thea, but I feel like I’ve gotten a little closer to Benny and Andrea, and I feel a lot closer to Garth and Bess and Jesse and Cesar. Cain and Colette are in one of the circles now, and everyone from the club’s shifting around some. Don’t feel so close since we don’t see each other much. Crowley’s moved into one of my circles.”

Cas snorts. “Mine, too. Never thought I’d say that. He’s become a good friend, for all his foibles and ability to annoy me like no one else.”

“’Cause you’re a softie, that’s why,” Dean says, pressing his lips against his clavicle. “Those guys Mike and Adam that we met at Jesse and Cesar’s are cool. I got Mike’s number. We should invite them to game night. Damn, we gotta buy a bigger table.”

“ _We_ have to buy a bigger table?” 

“Yeah. For our sunroom. We’re packed in as it is, and if Mike and Adam join us, we won’t have room for everyone. And the times the ladies join us, we definitely won’t have enough room.”

Cas does his damndest to ignore the delighted shiver that _our sunroom_ caused. He knows Dean’s tired and didn’t mean it like that. “Hon, it’s _your_ sunroom, so _you_ can buy the table,” he teases. “Though I’m happy to help, of course.”

“You practically live here,” Dean scoffs. “You’re here all the time.”

“It’s still _your_ house, thus _your_ sunroom,” he says lightly, assuring Dean that he isn’t trying to home in on...well, his home, and more importantly, his independence. “Though I will say, painting it white and adding that accent wall later was a good choice on my part. Or Cal’s.”

“Yeah, Cal has good taste, I guess.” 

“You guess. Sigh. Cal gets no respect, even after he said Dan was his best husband.”

Dean chuckles quietly, his grip around Cas tightening ever so slightly. 

The poor man has been through the emotional wringer tonight, so Cas tries to offer some comfort. “He is the best husband, though, truly. Cal has great taste in husbands. That’s where Cal and I are exactly the same.” He kisses Dean on top of his head, then realizes what he said and facepalms mentally. _Dumbass._

Dean caught on too, apparently. “Except we aren’t husbands.”

His heart pounding with embarrassment, Cas tries to save face by making a joke. “Not _yet_ , but you’ll ask me someday,” he says with a confidence he absolutely does not feel. “Probably when we’re roleplaying, since you seem to make major declarations during roleplays.”

Dean snorts.

Cas knows he should stop there, the joke made and understood, but he’s unable to control his anxiety-driven mouth. “You’ll be the hot Hollywood leading man and I’ll be your bodyguard, and I’ll get shot protecting you. You’ll take care of me in your home, we’ll make love, and you’ll realize you’ve been in love with me for years and ask me to guard your body and your soul for the rest of your life. Something cheesy like that.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yup, that’s how it’s gonna go. Of course, knowing me, I’ll have no idea you’re _actually_ asking me, and we’ll have some kind of fight and figure it out after. So maybe, when you ask me someday, you should do it when we aren’t in a roleplay, like when we’re watching TV or doing dishes. Something boring. Or maybe you should do something totally obvious, like a ring in a beer glass at dinner. Something like that.”

Cas finally manages to shut up, and the room is quiet for a moment. 

Dean pulls out of his arms. Softly, hesitantly, he says, “Cas, I—I’m not gonna ask you to marry me someday. I, uh—”

“Bitch, please, I was joking,” he retorts immediately with an eyeroll and a short shove to Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s words hit him like a Mack truck, but he knew that, despite his enjoyment of their married roleplays, Dean probably wouldn’t want to actually marry, too fearful of his freedom being restricted. And why would Dean want to marry _him_ , anyway? No, they’ll stay like this, which is fine. Perfectly fine. They don’t have to share a name or a health insurance plan, or even live together. He has _Dean_ and that’s what counts. 

“Cas—”

He takes an opportunity to collect himself (and to change the subject) by turning off the light, saying casually as he does so, “You know, you could just use one or two of the card tables you pull out for barbecues and add it to the end of the other table when you need to rather than buy a new one. Problem solved.” He fluffs his pillow, then sinks down onto it to brood until he falls asleep.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep. Unless you need to talk about Lee more?”

“No, I’m good with that—”

“Okay, then. Night. Love you.”

“Wait a sec—”

“We can talk about tables in the morning, hon.”

“Turn on the light for a minute.”

“Dean, it’s been a hard week, I’m really tired—”

“Cas. Turn on the light.”

He exhales harshly, still embarrassed as hell but now growing irritated as well. “You have one on your side. Why do I need to sit up and turn mine on?”

“You are a stubborn, stubborn man.” 

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh my God, dude.”

The light on Dean’s side flicks on.

“Cas.”

“What?”

“Are you pissed?”

“ _No_.” He covers his eyes with his arm. “You could’ve asked me that with the light off.”

Dean huffs, sounding...amused. “Cas, sit up and look at me.”

“What part of _I’m tired_ did you not understand?”

“Cas.”

“ _What_?”

“Come on. Sit up and look at me.”

“I. Am. _Tired_. I want to go to _sleep_ , which is the opposite of sitting up and looking at you.” 

“Oh fuck, you are _so_ pissed,” he laughs, the asshole. 

“Well, I’m glad that’s funny to you.”

“Sit up, babe. Look at me.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean, you’re driving me crazy. I’m not moving, so if you want me to look at you, you’re either going to have to wait until morning or you’re gonna have to march your ass around the bed and get down on your goddamn knees.”

His obvious annoyance doesn’t seem to put a damper on his boyfriend’s amusement. “Okay, okay, fine, grump-bee.” 

Cas doesn’t dignify that with a response.

The mattress lifts, and soon he senses Dean’s presence in front of him. 

“Cas. You said if I wanted you to look at me, I’d have to come to you. Here I am, on my knees. Look at me, please, sweetheart.”

Reluctantly, Cas moves his arm and opens his eyes. 

“Hi,” Dean whispers.

“Hi,” Cas grumbles. 

“Wanna climb out of your pool of insecurity for a minute? Join me on the deck of confidence?”

Cas pouts, still feeling sour and foolish and, yes, very insecure. As he gazes at Dean’s soft green eyes, though, eyes that are full of amusement but so much love, too, his irritation subsides. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry,” he smiles, carding through his hair. “Can I finish now?”

Cas’ forehead creases. “Finish what?”

He opens the drawer in Cas’ bedside table and pulls out the ring that Cas has worn so many times as Cal. “Finish asking you to be my husband. I’m not gonna ask you _someday_ , babe. I’m gonna ask you _now_. I was just tryin’ to think of some pretty words when you told me you were, uh, ‘joking‘. Terrible acting, by the way. I wasn't feeling that performance at all.”

Cas sits up on an elbow, ignoring his boyfriend’s snark as he realizes what’s happening. “Jesus, I fucked this up,” he mutters, wiping a hand down his face.

“You did predict it, though,” Dean chortles. “You said you wouldn't realize I was asking and we’d fight about it.”

“Fuck you,” Cas says, breaking into a helpless smile as he shoves Dean’s shoulder. “In my defense, this came out of nowhere! We were talking about friends and parents and tables, and then I put my foot in my mouth and you said what you said and there was _no_ follow up! How was I supposed to know?”

“You’re right,” Dean admits with placating hands. “In _my_ defense, I didn’t plan on doing it tonight, so I didn’t have my speech planned.”

A rush of panic and guilt floods Cas’ chest. _Is he doing this because I was being pissy?_ “Then why are you?”

“Because I love you,” he answers sincerely. “Because you’re the one who sees past all the roles I play, who’s always seen past them and still loved me and supported me no matter what. Because you play with me, you stand up for me, you let me grow, you let me be me. You love me, even when I drive you crazy.”

Cas presses his lips together as his eyes water.

“We haven’t dated a long time, but we’ve known each other a long time and I know you’re it for me, the only one for me. You’re my best friend, my family, the person I love. You’re in your very own circle, babe.”

Dean takes his hand and squeezes it. Cas sniffles and blinks the tears from his eyes.

“I swear my proposal wasn’t gonna be this lame—I was gonna do something really romantic, with a real engagement ring that doesn’t turn your finger green if you wear it too long. But tonight you encouraged me to do something hard but important, something that didn’t benefit you at all but you knew I needed. Then we talked about Lee and my dad and it was so...easy, even though it wasn’t, you know? Because it was with you.”

Cas nods.

“And then we talked about friends and circles and game nights and the sunroom...God, the sunroom. When you said it was mine and not ours, I just...right then, I knew I wanted it to be ours, for the house to be ours. And yeah, I could’ve just asked you to move in, but I thought about that asshole at the paint store—”

“And here I thought you were just pretending to be jealous.”

“Hell no, that guy was a greedy little husband-stealing prick and he had his eyes all over you. Goddamn right I was jealous.”

Cas laughs, feeling light as air and nowhere near tired now. He sits up and tugs Dean’s arm until Dean climbs onto the bed and straddles his thighs. “Okay, so you thought about the perfectly nice sales associate at the store…”

“So I thought about the _husband-stealing prick_ at the store and how he told me if I liked it I should’ve put a ring on it, and you know what? He was an asshole, but he was right. And I don’t know, tonight...it just felt right, and I didn’t wanna wait. So I went off-script.” He flashes him a lopsided grin. “So, my _best_ best friend. You wanna do this domestic vanilla shit with me for the rest of our lives?”

Cas palms his best friend’s sweet, hopeful face. “Bitch, yes,” he grins, sealing the deal with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could I resist a proposal? No, I could not. Did I even try? Also no.
> 
> I added the "punched him" line for all of you. XD
> 
> Epilogue coming your way next time!


	24. Epilogue: The Roles of a Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my friends! I can't believe another one has ended. Heartfelt stuff at the end, as well as what I'm working on next. ❤️
> 
> Tags at the end for this chapter, as well!

Cas has learned a few things over the last couple of years. 

The first thing he’s learned is: Don’t make assumptions. 

He’s reminded of this when he’s saying goodbye to his high school students at the local community theater. He’s there as a volunteer, helping with a student theater project. He’d assumed he’d be rejected straightaway as a volunteer, since he had no theater experience after high school and no experience working with kids, but they took him right in. 

And speaking of taking him right in, he’d assumed, too, that he’d have to work really hard to get the kids to like him, or that they’d outright ignore him, but they seemed almost fascinated by him from the get-go. He’d had no trouble getting them to work with him, particularly after he showed them his comics. His clothing choices seemed to endear him to them, too. They teased him for his odd choices yet always wanted him to top himself with something even more outlandish the next time, and he always made sure to wear his loudest, most fun clothing combinations when he went to see them. His openness about his marriage to Dean also seemed to earn him points with the teens. They’d had some great conversations. 

After he leaves, he swings back to the office to change out of his paint-stained clothes and into a nice pair of jeans, a fitted sweater, and loafers. He finishes the understated but stylish look with a thin anklet and a few turquoise beaded bracelets for a little fun. 

“Feathers,” Crowley greets him with a nod as he emerges from his office.

“Grinch,” Cas grins. 

They embrace.

“Shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

They walk a couple of blocks to a bar, where some of their co-workers are meeting them for a drink: Jody, Linda, and Victor. Their partners are joining them tonight, and he’s excited to finally meet them.

When Cas sees Jody’s partner, though, he gulps. He’d recognize her anywhere _._

And when they’re introduced, she recognizes him, too. “Cas...huh. Sounds familiar,” Officer Hanscum says with a twinkle in her eye. 

“Where’s Dean?” Victor asks.

“Crowley’s my date,” Cas jokes. “Dean already had plans with some friends. He told us we have to do this again so he can meet you all, though.”

They sit for an hour, nursing their beverages while they talk shop. It’s something they just started doing a couple of months ago, expanding their lunches to this new, after-hours activity. He’d been pulled into group lunches by Crowley after some argument—he’d always assumed everyone else didn’t want much to do with him, both because he’s rather “quirky” and because he’s the owner’s son. The group quickly corrected his view, and soon he had work friends he really enjoyed, even beyond work. 

When they get ready to leave, it’s with hugs and a date for their next outing.

“Jody talks about you at home. I wondered if you were the same guy,” Officer Hanscum—Donna—says as he’s slipping on his coat.

“That’s me.”

“I never said anything to her.”

“Thanks. I’m still with him, as you heard.”

“I think that’s really cute,” she smiles. “Given how she’s described office Cas, I wasn’t sure if I could connect those dots, but here you are. It’s always the quiet ones.”

He thinks about the things he’s done in his office with Dean and shrugs. “Assume nothing, I guess.”

“You got that right,” she says with a wink and a click of her tongue.

The second thing he’s learned is: Don’t be anyone other than yourself.

Cas walks back to the office with Crowley, where he picks up his car and drives to one of his favorite restaurants to meet one of his favorite people. 

“Bess,” he grins as he hugs her at the entrance. “You escaped the kids.”

“Yes, thank God. Let’s go in. I get three whole hours to myself, and I’m using two of them to drink.”

They chat in the comfortable, amiable yet honest way that close friends do, spilling details that they only save for each other or their spouses. They’re each through a margarita and two tacos when Bess asks, “So, add any pages to the recipe book lately?”

Cas knows exactly what “recipe book” she’s asking about. “Maybe,” he smirks. “Did a fun one a few weeks back. Angel/demon.”

“Ooh, that sounds yummy.”

“It was.” He thinks back to the rough-and-tumble night and how sore they were the next day. 

“Better than the angel/human?”

“Not quite. I’m rather partial to that one.”

“I recall,” she laughs. “It was one of your favorites.”

With a dreamy hum, he agrees, then confesses, “We haven’t been doing roleplays lately, though.”

“No?”

“No. We’re, uh, adding a section to the cookbook, you could say.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. Toys.”

“Mmm. I do love a good vibrator.”

“So does Dean.”

They laugh uproariously, drawing attention to their table. Neither of them care a bit. Cas would have, once upon a time, but being himself is so much more fun and relaxing. Dean’s helped him a lot with that.

“I’m going to try something new with him, actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhmm. A little public play with a prostate massager.”

“Oooohhh, that’s so smart. He’s going to be devouring you as soon as you guys are in private again.”

“That’s my hope,” he chuckles. “So, how about you? Any new recipes?”

“Ugh, no. Who has time with three kids?”

“Does interfere with foreplay, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Roleplays take a lot of time that we just don’t have.”

“Yeah.” He leans forward and squints at her as he asks, “You okay, though? Happy?”

“Oh yeah. Just in a little rut, I guess. It happens. We’ll find the spark we need somewhere. In the meantime, we still have the in-between to enjoy.”

Cas agrees with a smile. He knows how important that in-between is.

After dinner, they take a walk down to a bookstore, which is open late on Friday nights for Dungeons & Dragons games. Cas stops, as he always does, at the display labeled “Local Author.” It still thrills him to see his comics in book form.

Dean had encouraged him to publish them, and after a lot of convincing on Dean’s part and a lot of rejection from various big publishers, a small, California-based outfit took a chance on him. Every book sold is a little more confirmation that he’s not a hopeless dork falling behind his peers, but rather a guy who’s just a little different, in his own niche...and that there are others just like him, and that niche is pretty damn big, diverse, and just as valid and awesome as any other niche out there.

“You’ve sold, what, a couple hundred books so far?” 

“Yes, but my parents bought half of them, so I’m not sure it counts,” he jokes. 

Maybe they didn’t buy half, but his parents did buy several. Like Dean, they thought he’d given up art, and when they found out he hadn’t, they were thrilled. They didn’t care for his sort of comics, but they supported him in being who he wanted to be. His dad even gave him four paid hours a week for volunteerism, which he extended to the entire company, so that he could pursue art-related interests—thus his theater gig. He’s also involved in a couple of online artists’ groups and is almost ready to open his Etsy store. Dean thinks it’s going to be big. Cas isn’t as optimistic, but as long as he’s doing it because he loves it, actually selling anything is gravy. 

It’s funny to think that everything that’s led him to where he is now started with roleplay. But really, it wasn’t the roleplay that made his life so great. It was being himself. He has friends, passions, a husband (his best friend and greatest passion), all because he was finally able to embrace his entire self. He’s incredibly happy.

They’re goofing around with some plastic lightsabers on display when a man catches his eye who he suspects is not incredibly happy. 

Bess stops and follows his gaze. “Oh,” she mutters. 

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, isn’t this place too nerdy for him?”

Cas shrugs. He would’ve thought so. 

“Didn’t he move out of town? He didn’t return to Benny’s station, did he?”

“Not that I know of. I’m sure we would’ve heard about it.”

He lowers his lightsaber and waits, watching him until Lee can’t help but make eye contact. Once he does, he approaches. Cas knew he would. He couldn’t possibly back down and risk looking weak. 

“Hey. How ya doin’?”

“Wonderful. You?”

“Not bad.” Lee glances behind Cas. His brows knit together. “Your book?”

“It is.”

His eyes skate over the cover. “Comics, huh? You always were a special flower.”

“Thank you. I am unique and beautiful. Very soft, colorful, smell great. Dean loves to make me grow.”

Lee’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “How is he?”

“Very well. Very happy. We’re married.”

“Yeah, I heard through the grapevine. Uh, congrats, I guess.”

“I’ll send your sincerest wishes to Dean.”

Lee snorts and folds his arms. “You do that.”

“Oh, I will. Probably when I’m fucking him tonight. I’m thinking maybe we’ll play cop and criminal. I’ll frisk him and then interrogate him. You like interrogations, don’t you? Maybe you should try roleplay. You do like to talk about it a lot.”

Lee turns on his heel and stomps away. 

“Nice seeing you!” Cas calls to his back.

Beside him, Bess giggles. “There’s a bad boy underneath that choir boy exterior,” she says with an impressed purse of her lips. 

“He just pisses me off, Bess. And with everything he did…”

“I know.” 

She, like the rest of their mutual friends, knows that Dean did, against his better judgment, try to be friends with Lee again. It wasn’t long before that fell apart, though, as Lee told everyone at the club about their roleplaying, including some things that weren’t true. Dean found out. He’d tried to tell Dean he was just kidding around and to “lighten up, nobody cares, it’s all in fun,” but Dean wasn’t having it. He knew what it was—an attempt to manipulate the situation, since Dean wasn’t playing the way he wanted—and he shut the man out of his life for good. What she doesn’t know is how much it hurt Dean that someone he’d called a close friend, someone he’d given so much to, would do that to him, to both of them, and how many times he’d cried and raged before finally letting go. 

(Crowley, bless him, exacted payback in the form of several rumors, including one about Lee’s unrequited attraction to Dean and his jealousy toward Cas. “They’re not rumors if they’re true,” Crowley had shrugged. Dean had doubted the one about Lee’s attraction, saying he’d never shown any interest, to which Crowley replied, “He played his cards close, but I have my sources, Freckles. I would’ve been happy to keep it quiet, but he seemed to think revealing secrets was fine and dandy, so one good turn deserves another, don’t you think? Plus he’s an arsehole who thinks he’s untouchable. Well, now he knows that you don’t fuck with your friends, and you certainly don’t fuck with mine.”) 

Bess squeezes his arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas assures her, shaking his head. “What a prick.”

“Yup. Hey, let’s get going. I want to make a stop before heading home and I need your help.”

When she tells him what she needs and why, he laughs.

Then he gets a devilish idea that he thinks Dean will love. It makes him grin all the way home.

Cas has never been happier to be himself...and he feels so damn lucky he can be himself with Dean. 

The third thing he’s learned is: If you choose to be someone other than yourself, do so with your best friend and end it with an orgasm.

And top it off with vanilla.

* * *

There are all kinds of friends, Dean’s learned. Some are casual, some are close. Some are your work friends, some are your outside-of-work friends. Some are your in-person friends, some are your online friends. Some are your do-hobbies-with friends, some are your do-everything-with friends. Some are short-term friends, some are long-term friends.

And if you’re really lucky, you have that one friend, the one that’s in their own circle, the one that knows you better than anyone and still sticks around, the one you fall in love with, the one that’s forever. The one that feels the same about you as you feel about them.

Dean has that, and he’s the luckiest bastard alive.

And bonus? His friend is also totally hot. And kind of kinky.

His reminder of _that_ is currently inserted in his ass.

“All you have to do is win,” Cas told him after he placed the remote-controlled vibrating toy inside of him. “If you do, you get to decide what we do tonight.” 

He didn’t even know _how_ to win, but he was going to try. 

“If you don’t win...” he’d continued, then shrugged, not finishing his sentence. Dean tried to fill in the blanks, his ideas of what may come if he _didn’t_ win just as titillating as if he _did_. 

“You’re up, Dean,” Cas says, breaking into those very enticing ideas.

“Huh?”

“Cards. We’re playing. Are you, love?”

“Uh yeah, yeah. Of course. What are you talking about?” 

Their friends snicker. Cas smirks.

“Maybe if you turned the music down a few decibels, you’d hear what’s going on,” Sam snarks. 

_Like hell._ He really doesn’t want to take the chance that anyone will hear an odd buzzing sound and wonder where it’s coming from. 

Dean flips his brother off, then takes his turn. He has no idea whether he’s played a good card or not.

He has not.

“That’s a lazy and unfortunate error, my friend,” Benny crows as he takes advantage of Dean’s mistake. “You’re spacey tonight.”

The toy begins a slow, pulsing rhythm against his prostate. “Uh, yeah. Stuff on my mind, I guess.”

“What’s on your mind?” Bess asks.

 _Riding my husband’s cock until we wake the neighbors._ “Eh, nothing important.”

The vibration quickens.

“I mean, it’s important, just...nothin’ to get into here. Okay, next game?”

“We’re not done this one yet,” Charlie reminds him.

“Oh. Right. Uh, yeah.”

“Jeez, don’t let him handle any sharp objects, Cas,” Jess teases.

“Or babies,” Cas volleys as Jess rubs her very pregnant belly.

“Right. Good thing you kept the littles at home, guys,” Jess says to Bess and Garth, referring to their twin toddlers.

“I guess so,” Bess grins. “Must be going around. Garth has been off today, too.”

“I—” Garth starts, then tumbles into a coughing fit. “Yeah,” he gasps. Thea, next to him, pats his back in friendly concern as he catches his breath. He sips his beer and waves a hand to let everyone know he’s okay.

They return to the game and finish the round, Dean having his own difficulty breathing as Cas plays with him. He does his best to focus on his next hand, but he knows he’s bound to lose tonight.

His phone chimes. He pulls it from his pocket.

_Cas 4:28pm: You’re doing so well. Think you could win this next game? If you can, there’s an extra treat in it for you._

Dean meets Cas’ innocent eyes. _Innocent my vibrating ass._ He nods. Cas nods back.

The toy vibrates faster, but steadily.

He wipes sweat from his forehead.

Using all three brain cells that aren't currently busy down south, Dean focuses on his cards. He can do this. No problem. He can just use the power of his mind to drown out the feeling of the toy. Yeah. He’s got this.

Or that’s what he thinks until he plays a card against Cas.

The toy goes from zero to sixty in seconds.

“Fuck!” he cries, standing so fast that Jess’ water sloshes onto the table. “Sorry. I’ll get something for that.”

He hurries to the kitchen for paper towels. The vibrating stops. Of course, that’s when he notices his dick standing like a fuckin’ sequoia. He hopes no one noticed. Just in case, he uses the roll of towels to hide the roll he has going in his pants. 

His friends’ faces are turned up, identical looks of amused confusion on them all except for Cas’, whose brows are pinched in concern he knows is masking smugness. 

“The hell was that about?” Cesar asks.

“Bug on my leg,” he lies.

“A bug on your leg? Dude,” Sam ridicules him.

“It was a large, ugly, stinging bug, so shut your face.”

Everyone laughs and they return to the game. Dean focuses hard, determined to win and earn his treat.

He loses. Cas gives him a break and turns the toy off for a while, though he’s not sure if that’s a gift or a punishment.

They play another couple of rounds until Adam complains about being hungry, Mike rolling his eyes fondly and teasing him about his appetite. 

Cas wiggles his brows at that, not making the joke Dean knows he probably wants to. Brat.

And speaking of brats… “All right, time to grill,” Dean decides.

Cas announces _he’s_ manning the grill and asks Bess to help him, then the pair direct their other friends to bring out the side dishes or get the table ready while Dean and Garth prepare the tossed salad.

“Love being ordered around in my own house,” he mutters sarcastically. 

“Spouses. They rope us into all kinds of things and we just go with it, huh?” Garth says. 

He shakes his head as the buzzing begins once again. Garth has no idea how right he is. “Yeah. We’re suckers like that.”

“Eh, it’s”—he begins to cough—“’cause we love ‘em.”

“Good thing. Bossy pains in the ass.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

They work side by side for a bit, each of them in their own worlds, it seems to Dean. Garth, usually light and chatty, is concentrating hard on slicing tomatoes. 

He turns away and coughs, bending deeply at the waist.

“Fuck, dude, you all right?”

“Oh yeah,” he says, straightening. “Allergies.”

“Ah,” Dean nods. Poor guy’s been coughing like crazy all afternoon. He must be miserable. “You want somethin’ for ‘em? I have meds.”

“Nah. You okay, mi amigo? Looks like that pepper is plenty diced.”

Dean glances at the green pepper under his hands, which is indeed very, _very_ diced.

“Yeah, fine. Great.”

“You sure? You seem distracted.”

 _You could say that._ “I’m good.”

“Okay, good.”

An odd silence that isn’t drowned out by the music descends upon them. Dean scrapes the pepper into the bowl, then picks up an onion and begins peeling. Garth follows suit, finishing the tomatoes and rinsing the cutting board before he starts on the cucumbers.

“I love these guys,” Dean comments about ZZ Top as “Sharp-Dressed Man” blasts through the speakers. He smiles as he thinks about his own sharp-dressed man. He does dress a little nicer now, “Cal” having rubbed off on him some, but he’ll still pull out the dorky stuff that Dean finds so damn endearing.

“Yeah, they’re good, man. So, how’s life treating you?”

Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that question. He has great friends, most of them here today. He’s a supervisor at his company now, which is awesome because he makes more money, keeps better hours, and has a few people to talk to. He still does the obligatory Dad visit, but Cas goes with him, and after Cas told him off the day before their wedding, his dad’s been a little more bearable. And Cas... He’s been married to his best friend just over two years now, and domestic life (and life in general) is better than he ever thought it could be. No one knows him like Cas. No one’s been there for him like Cas. Marrying Cas is the best thing he’s ever done.

Even when his husband wants to play games while all their friends are around.

“Life’s treatin’ me real good, man.”

“Good.”

They fall into another awkward silence as Dean’s toy pulses once more, making Dean’s knife stutter while he slices onions. Garth scrutinizes him. Knowing Garth’s probably catching on to Dean’s weird energy, he tries to come up with something to talk about. He starts talking about the kids, but Garth doesn't seem to want to talk about them, which is strange because usually he won’t shut up about them. He switches topics and brings up a tooth that’s been bothering him, and that seems to make conversation flow smoothly. Dean even mostly forgets about the little gadget purring away inside him.

For a few minutes, anyway.

It revs up once he sets the salad down, to the point where he has to pretend to tie his shoes so he has an excuse to sit. That’s a mistake, because it angles the toy right where Dean likes it. 

He begins to sweat again.

A shadow falls over him. “You okay, love?” 

He looks up at his very coy husband. “Just fine, _Castiel_ ,” he answers, gritting his teeth.

Cas crouches in front of him, his gorgeous blue eyes filled with real concern this time. “Color?” he whispers.

“Green.” _So fucking green._

Cas smiles, relaxing. “Okay, then.” He blows Dean a kiss. A moment later, Bess calls everyone over and the vibration stops completely.

It seems his husband is a little merciful.

He eats in blessed comfort, or at least he does once his damn dick calms down. Cas is right beside him the whole time, fingers in his hair, body pressed against his. They’re not usually this demonstrative anymore—kisses, sure, hand holding or a brush on the arm, of course, but they’re not all over each other except at home or to gross Sam out—but right now touch is needed and welcome (always welcome, but especially welcome now). Touch is Cas’ way of checking in, of reassuring himself, of reassuring Dean. 

And maybe to prepare Dean a little, too. 

Because there’s one more hurdle.

Sitting in the backyard with a beer after dinner, fully relaxed and almost having forgotten the toy, he’s made to jump, quite literally, as the toy rockets to its highest speed, the speed his body knows and _loves_. 

He clutches the arms of his chair. _I hate you, Cas. IhateyouIhateyouOhGodIloveyouIloveyouplease—_

His internal chant is interrupted when Garth coughs so hard Dean’s pretty sure a lung is going to fall out. 

“We gotta go,” he says weakly to Bess.

“Yeah, we probably should, honeybunch. You’ve been coughing all day. Best to get you home and into bed so you can start to feel better.” 

Everyone is saying their goodbyes and well wishes to Garth and Bess when Cas approaches and crowds Dean, hovering above him as he braces himself against the arms of the chair. “Very good, sweetheart,” he purrs. “You won.”

“I did?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“How did I—”

“We should say our goodbyes.”

Dean squints at him but stands, the vibrating sensation ceased for now. They walk the couple to their car, giving their thanks for being there.

“You look tired. Maybe you should think about going to bed early, too,” Bess smiles at Dean as she separates from their hug. She hugs Cas next and adds, “Thanks for the recipe, Cas.” She winks at them, then opens the driver’s side door and slides in.

The pieces come together.

“You kinky little shits,” Dean growls as he realizes that Garth’s coughing must have been his reaction to a little vibrating device of his own, and that their spouses were colluding. 

Cas steps into his space, slipping an arm around his waist. “You love it,” he says confidently. 

He can’t possibly deny it—his smile gives him away—but he says, “Yeah, but I kinda wish you’d talked to me first.”

At that, Cas leans back, worry creasing his forehead. “Oh. You’re right, I’m sor—”

“’Cause then I would’ve been _really_ competitive.” 

Cas bursts into laughter with him, his body shaking in Dean’s arms. “Oh, you are a brat,” he murmurs when they’ve calmed. “You’re lucky you won, or you would’ve found out just what I do to brats.”

Suddenly, Dean knows just what he wants his prize to be. And once everyone has been ushered out as hastily as they could get away with, he happily finds out what Cas does to brats.

“Fuck me, oh fuck,” he wails, the toy humming against his prostate once more as he swings suspended from Cas’ yoga swing, Cas smacking his ass every time his trajectory takes him back that way. He had laughed at the thing and about Cas’ sudden obsession with yoga at first, telling him that domestic life had made him a hippie. 

He should not have underestimated Cas’ kinkiness, nor the effect that yoga would have on Cas’ body and spirit. Guy’s a chiseled, self-assured mofo.

“Yes, I think I will fuck you now,” Cas purrs, in complete control. 

_Yes._

Cas stops the swing, releases Dean from its hold, then carries him (which will never not be hot) to the game table, now clear of their earlier activities. He spreads him onto its surface and swallows him down while he tugs the toy out of his ass. When he’s weeping from both his cock and his eyes, Cas pulls him up and switches their positions.

“Ride me,” he commands him, though his tone has a hint of question in it, of checking for consent. He’s embraced the “dom” thing a little more over time, but he’s still always cautious, always sweet, always putting Dean’s needs and desires first. 

“Yes sir,” Dean purrs with enthusiasm, happy to oblige since he’s been thinking about it all evening. 

He hasn’t had much of a chance to drink Cas in tonight, focused mostly on himself thanks to the toy and to Cas’ delightful ministrations, so Dean strokes his skin, extra-golden under the soft light hanging above them. He thinks about Garth’s question and how very, very well life is treating him, how lucky he is to have everything he didn’t know he wanted in one thoughtful, kind, loving partner. 

“I’m wearing a wedding ring, not a promise ring, so stop being a blushing virgin and get on with it.”

Dean grins. _Sarcastic, too._

After a few quick strokes, he sinks down on Cas’ cock. They groan as one, then Dean rocks, tightening his ass with every downstroke just the way Cas likes it.

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas rasps, clutching onto the sides of the table. 

Dean hums, enjoying the delicious familiarity of their rhythm, their heat, their scents and sounds, their overwhelming, overflowing love for each other. It’s always so good with Cas, always. 

Nearly ready to burst, he drops a hand onto his cock. 

“Hang on,” Cas pants. “I’ll—”

“Nuh uh. You’ve been in charge all night. I’m in charge now. I’m gettin’ us both off.”

Cas acquiesces with a moan. 

Dean smiles as he doubles down, bouncing harder as he jerks himself fast, keeping steady eye contact with his husband. The staring always makes things more intense, and between it and all the playing they did tonight, Dean can’t hold off any longer. His orgasm crashes into him like a tsunami, wrecking him.

“Dean!” Cas cries, gripping his hips tightly. Dean is flooded by Cas’ orgasm this time; he watches as Cas convulses in the sweetest sort of torture.

“Jesus, that was good,” Dean wheezes, hands braced on either side of Cas’ chest. “But fuck, my knees hurt.”

“The table may have been a bad idea in retrospect,” Cas admits, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, maybe. Ow. C’mon, I gotta stand up.”

Deciding to leave cleaning and disinfecting for the morning, they take turns in the bathroom, then stumble together to bed.

“Did you put sugar on the grocery list?” Cas asks as he turns off the light.

“Dude, you need to work on your pillow talk.”

“I’m making you pie. I need sugar.”

“Mmm, that’s better. Gimme that dirty, dirty talk.”

“It’s too late for your foolishness,” Cas mutters, but Dean hears the affection in it. 

“I love you, honeybee,” Dean sing-songs. He plasters himself to Cas’ side, kissing him loudly just to be annoying. “And you love me, admit it.” 

“Yes, yes,” Cas replies, squirming.

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Your performance was flat. Come on, again.”

“I love you with the fire of a thousand suns.”

“Nope.” He begins to tickle Cas’ ribs.

“Dean, I love you but you’re driving me crazy, Jesus, cut it out!” 

“Yeah, that’s better,” Dean laughs. He stops tickling his husband and finds his lips in the dark. They share a sweet, lingering kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my bean.”

Dean drops to his pillow, feeling content and sleepy. He mind wanders to the boring Sunday they have planned, though they’re never really boring, he’s found. When they started the roleplaying, it was because he was bored with sex. What he’s discovered over the years is that he was bored with more than just sex—he was bored with life. He wanted more. And did he ever get more when he got with Cas. He closes his eyes and sighs, smiling.

“Hon?” Cas calls softly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m expecting a package next week. Wednesday or Thursday, I think.”

“Mmmkay.”

“I ordered us a double-ended dildo.”

Dean’s eyes fly open. “A...double-ended…”

“Mmmhmm. We’re gonna have so much fun. I have plans.”

“Jesus.”

“How’s my dirty talk now?”

No, life is never boring with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Oral sex, anal sex, prostate massage, toys, voyeurism/exhibitionism (but not really, it's confusing), consent issues (which end up being no problem, it's a secret one keeps from the other, with sexy results, a secret they knew the other would be on board with), potential secondhand embarrassment, dom/sub elements
> 
> Okay, wow, so this has been a trip! Many, many thanks to all those who have read this story, from those who started with the first posting (you patient people, you!) to those who waited until the end (also very patient!) and those who jumped in somewhere in the middle (taking a chance, yes, I like it!). This was a lot of fun for me, and a great distraction at a time when I needed one. 
> 
> You may have noticed that this is part of a series. My intention is to write a few smutty chapters when the urge strikes (or anything else you want to see—roleplay wedding, anyone?). If you have ideas for roleplays you'd like to see, leave them in the comments! 
> 
> So, what's next for me? Well, I have an adorable story about a man who falls for his child's teacher after being caught in an embarrassing situation, a quick one-shot about two men who share a parking space, and the next long fic I'm writing now, my first A/B/O, about a man who adamantly doesn't want a mate due to the tragedies of his past and how that past may impact the future of both he and the man his body is telling him is supposed to be his.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on the socials.
> 
> Love you all, and thank you so much for your support! ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
